


The Basket

by Minuete



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Episode: s04e14 Memento Mori, F/M, Folklore, Legends, Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Post-Episode: s04e12 Leonard Betts, Post-Episode: s04e13 Never Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 24,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuete/pseuds/Minuete
Summary: Following the aftermath of the Ed Jerse case in Philadelphia, Mulder and Scully investigate some unexplained deaths in Northern California.It soon becomes a race against time as Mulder becomes more involved in the case than he bargained for becoming the next target.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a writer; the last time I wrote a story was for a letter grade back in 8th grade which was more than 20 years ago. With that said, I loved reading all the TXF fanfiction AO3 has to offer, and felt like I should contribute something that resembles a story. I miss reading case files and the early angst.

    Mulder noticed traces of his report pages having been crumpled. No doubt when he subconsciously gripped it too tightly within his hands while he read and reread the report he wrote these past few days whenever he was alone in the office. Images of the aftermath flooded his mind; the phone call from the Philadelphia Memorial Hospital, Scully on a hospital bed looking physically worse for wear, and Ed Jerse in a makeshift interrogation room in the hospital with a heavily bandaged right arm.  He remembered what transpired with Jerse after he left a silent and sullen Scully recovering from a concussion:

    “I’m Special Agent Mulder with the FBI.” Mulder showed his badge to the man slumped against the seat across the table. Ed Jerse had bloodshot eyes as he glanced up and eyed Mulder. 

   “You must be Dana’s partner,” Ed replied, “How is she doing? They won’t tell me her status.” He gestured with his good hand at the word “they” towards the door. 

    Mulder clenched his jaw hearing Ed’s use of Scully’s given name, “Special Agent Scully is being discharged today. I’m here to wrap up this case.” Mulder studied Ed’s features. He looked like a regular, above average-looking guy. If it weren’t for the dose of “psychotic killer” thrown in, Mulder would say Scully picked a winner.  Mulder sat down across from Ed and flipped to a blank page on his legal notepad, fiddling with the ballpoint pen before clicking it open. “Could you please recount the past 48 hours, Mr. Jerse.” 

    Ed let out a nervous chuckle as he pulled at his hair with his good hand, “Are you fucking serious?” He glanced up at Mulder who maintained a stoic expression despite the simmering anger Mulder felt towards the man who attempted to kill Scully. “Okay, um…I take it you knew that my divorce got finalized last Thursday so I decided to get a tattoo to commemorate the occasion.” Ed looked up again noticing that Mulder was tapping the pen on the notepad.  He pursed his lips briefly before he quickly continued, "Look, I don't feel comfortable recounting this to you.  I already gave my story to the police." 

    "What makes you feel uncomfortable, Mr. Jerse?" Mulder asked politely and calmly as he gripped the pen waiting for an answer. 

    "I don't think you interrogating me would give you any insight to Dana," Ed answered. He could clearly see that Mulder didn't anticipate that answer as he watch Mulder lean back against his chair. Mulder flipped toss the pen onto the notepad. 

    "Alright, off the record. What did you and Scully talk about at the bar?" 

    "You, more or less."  

    "More or less?" Mulder glared at Jerse. 

    "Dana...she's real special, you know? I can tell just from spending time with her that night--" Mulder was too quick for Jerse to react when he reached across the table, grabbed Jerse by the scrub collar, and dragged him off his seat.

    "I would watch what you say about Scully," Mulder warned, his eyes ablaze in the same vein of fury he felt towards Duane Barry.  Jerse gave him an odd look after he released his grip and composed himself.  

    "Jesus, you got it bad," Jerse mumbled as he fixed his scrub top.  Mulder chose to ignore that comment as he gathered up the notepad and pen to leave the room.  _Fucking Philadelphia_ , Mulder fumed.


	2. Chapter 2

    Mulder had tried to make a joke of Scully's second appearance in The X-Files, though internally he was angry that she was even an X-File subject at all.   _All of this because of a goddamned desk...No..._ he silently chided himself. It wasn't about the desk, it was about him being an asshole. “ _Not everything is about you, Mulder._ “ The statement still running fresh through his mind.  _Enough of this..._ he needed to get some air.          

    He shoved the file back into the drawer under "Scully, Dana".  Grabbing his coat, Mulder briskly made his way out of the basement and walked out of the Hoover Building. The chilly, morning air hurt his lungs as he breathed in and out.  This is what he’s used to; the pain in his chest as he made his way down the sidewalk. His destination was a newspaper stand a couple blocks away. There hadn't been any new cases from Skinner so it was up to Mulder to find one. He needed to keep his mind occupied with the unexplained, anything to keep him away from analyzing his partner.  "Hello...what's this?" He muttered to himself when a headline caught his eye. He paid the cashier and quickly made his way back to the office. He forgot his cell phone on his desk. He needed to call Scully hoping that she hadn't yet left for work.   
    Scully woke up with a dull, throbbing headache right between her eyes this morning.  _Tension headache_ , her initial thought. Tension simmering the past few days since their return to the office. After her "lapse in judgement" when all she wanted to be was Dana for a weekend. So now the tension finally seeped into her body letting her suffer the humiliation for just a little longer. She volunteered her time at Quantico the last couple days since the office had been slow and they were caught up on paperwork. Amazing how tension helps promote desk work productivity. More amazing how she was able to accomplish any paperwork  given a lack of desk. She glanced over at her alarm clock. Shit. 7:00am. She groaned.  No point on rushing out the door if she's going to be late anyway. Scully padded to her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet to dispense a couple Ibuprofen tablets. She heard her cell phone chirping in her bedroom as she dry- swallowed the tablets.  _Gee, I wonder who it could be_ , she thought with annoyance.   
    "Scully", her succinct form of greeting to the caller as she shoved the phone against her ear with one hand while the other started to grab a suit from her closet.  
    "Hey, Scully, are you on your way to work?" Mulder asked on the other end.    
    "No, I just woke up. I'm obviously going to be running late today. Do you need me to grab something on my way to the office?"   
    "Nope. Pack your bags, Scully. We're heading out to Healdsburg, CA. I'll swing by to pick you up in half hour." Mulder hung up before she had a chance to respond.


	3. Chapter 3

    "How did you manage to get Skinner to approve this trip to California?" Scully asked while the two of them were walking up to their departure gate. She saw the headline of Mulder's "source material" when she grabbed it on the car passenger seat to sit down: “Water Nymph Sighting! Second Victim Killed!” Her pace was a half-step quicker than usual so when Mulder tried to place his hand on her lower back, he just grazed her coat. He skimmed his hand along the coat allowing his fingertips to take in the sensation of the fabric material before placing his hand back at his side.     
    Mulder knew Scully was avoiding him, or rather redrawing the line that was her life.  He didn't realize his jaw was slightly clenched until he had to answer her question, most likely due to being denied the physical touch, though he wouldn’t admit it. He looked down at her while she focused on rolling up the source material in her hands. "Oh, you know, I just had to tell him that a fax came in from the sheriff's office in Sonoma County asking for our assistance with this strange phenomenon.”   
    "First the Loch Ness monster, and now this..."   
    "Technically it was Big Blue and not the Loch Ness monster. This is different. This creature is located in the Russian River, and I doubt you’ll hear my rehash of wanting a peg leg." That earned a Scully chuckle, rather, a huff as she started to move in the queue to board the plane for their 5-hour non-stop flight.

    Healdsburg was located 1.5 hour north from San Francisco International Airport without traffic. It was noon Pacific Time by the time they made it to the I-280 in their rental car. Scully bought some road trip snacks from one of the many store fronts in the airport terminal. "Something to pass the time," she offered as she ripped open a bag of sunflower seeds and placed them in the cup holder.   _A peace offering,_ Mulder thought to himself and he appreciated the thoughtful gesture.  _Of course he would_ , his mind continued,  _since he’s a thoughtless bastard_. 

    "Thanks, Scully," Mulder said as he grabbed a handful of seeds and started to shuck one at a time in his mouth all while not taking his eyes off the road discarding the shells out the window.  The silence in the car wasn’t too unbearable as Scully took in the vaguely familiar sights while they sluggishly made their way through 19th Ave. “When was the last time you visited San Francisco, Scully?”  
    “Hmmm...a lifetime ago,” she answered wistfully as she continued to stare out the window people- watching. When she was a fresh-faced medical student at Stanford University where people knew her as Dana. When she and Daniel made an excursion to this very city before she knew he was still married with a daughter not much younger than herself. Before she joined the FBI to become Special Agent Dana Scully….Scully…   
    When Mulder realized Scully wasn’t going to elaborate, he filled the silence with his voice, “I can’t remember the last time I visited San Francisco.  I do like this city though. I like this weather.”   
    “You like the rainy forecast the Bay Area has in store?” Scully asked as she reached for her purse she placed by her feet to search for some Ibuprofen tablets.  
    Mulder shrugged. “I’ll take the rain over ice and snow. I’m going to make a note to visit this place the next time I’m forced to take a vacation.”  The conversation ended during the rest of the trip out of the city as neither of them wanted to address the Philadelphia debacle. 


	4. Chapter 4

    The two of them stayed on safe topics to discuss once they crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge and made their way through Marin County via the 101-N highway. The drive was slightly sluggish due to intermittent showers.  Scully admitted to Mulder that she never made her way north of Napa, while Mulder mentioned that he made a pit stop in Sonoma County while working in VCS. 

    "It was an open-and-shut case. The local law enforcement didn't need me.  I just happened to be in the West Coast and wanted to stay out here a little longer before making my way back to DC," Mulder told Scully as he glanced her way with a side smirk. 

    "Was it a serial killer?" Scully asked cautiously.  _Did she really_ _want_ _to know_ , she thought. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach was a dread she felt as she mentally squashed hearing Donnie Pfaster's voice calling out for her. 

    "A spree killer. Ramon Salcido. He murdered almost all of his entire family save for one of his daughters, who somehow miraculously survived the brutal attack, and a coworker at a winery," Mulder answered; his face was grim recounting the story.  Scully vaguely remembered hearing that name and the murders on the national news while she was sleep-deprived, knee-deep in forensic pathology textbooks, and cutting into cadavers. 

     It was around 2pm by the time they reached the Sonoma County Sheriff's Office located in Santa Rosa. It started to sprinkle by the time Mulder parked next to the building.  They both reached for their trench coats in the backseat they'd tossed at the beginning of the trip at the same time, their heads leaning towards each other in the mutual act.  Mulder could make out the faint remnants of the bruises and abrasions that Scully tried to cover up on her face.  She was still avoiding direct eye contact with him, her eyes casted downwards, as she was about to pull back to her seat.  It was bothering him. A lot.  "Sorry," Mulder murmured, "Ladies first."  

    Scully let out a breathy chuckle.  She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath as she grabbed for her trench coat.  In a fluid motion, she quickly opened her door, pulled her trench coat around her, closed the door, and walked to the hood of the car.  She waited until she heard Mulder's door close before she headed towards the entrance. Scully could sense his eyes boring from behind her as he maintained a respectable pace and distance.  She pulled open the entrance door and motioned for Mulder to enter first.  He walked up to the front desk and introduced themselves to the female clerk asking to see Sheriff Jim Piccinini. 

   "The Sheriff is expecting us," Mulder said with a smile as he tucked his badge into his suit breast pocket. The clerk didn't return the friendly gesture, but instead called the Sheriff's desk to announce the FBI's arrival.  Scully was amused to see that Mulder's charming smile didn't work on the entire female population.  A Sheriff Deputy approached them minutes later and introduced himself as Rob Giordano with a tight-lipped smile. He stood nearly as tall as Mulder, a bulky build, with receding sandy-blond hair cleanly trimmed as in the military.   He led them to Sheriff's Piccinini's office.  Piccinini's office was cluttered to put it mildly.  She could barely make out the older, mustached gentleman sitting behind the desk    _He_ _could rival Mulder's organization_ , Scully thought to herself, as she heard Mulder greet the sheriff. 

    "You've arrived just in time, Agents," the sheriff cut through the niceties, "We just got word of a third victim." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My story will be peppered with real names that are a part of the Sonoma County history. This may be my last post for a while as I figure out what path to take this story. Too many ideas in my head!


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out that the newly-discovered third victim occurred that morning while Mulder and Scully were en route to California. Sheriff Piccinini asked Giordano to accompany the two of them to the site.  The forensics team already gathered whatever evidence they could collect given the inclement weather before their arrival to the Sheriff's office.  Mulder declined Giordano's offer to give them a ride in his car, wanting the freedom to having the rental car at their disposal.  It worked out for the best because, once they arrived at the entrance leading to the murder scene just north of the River Rd. exit, Giordano told them he was needed in Guerneville. 

"There's no sheriff deputy stationed in Guerneville?" Scully asked as she wasn't used to a sheriff deputy leaving his given orders by his superior. 

"We're short-staffed at the moment, M'am," Giordano answered curtly, "The call just came in, and I'm the nearest one in the area."  Scully nodded in understanding as he gave them directions to the site.  Mulder led the way to the river bank where Giordano said they found the body. It wasn't a secluded spot but the recent rain had made the trail conditions too wet for easy trekking.  _Another pair of_ _heel_ _s t_ _o be replaced_ , Scully thought as she jealously watched Mulder walk through the trail with greater ease in his flat dress shoes. She couldn't even walk in his fresh footprints if she'd wanted to, his long-legged strides dwarfing her own.  Her thoughts then morphed to how much longer she was willing to follow him in this partnership, long strides and all in the muck. They finally made it to the site, but it looked worse for wear given the recent storm that just passed through earlier that day.  The gray clouds over the horizon appeared less ominous and Scully could make out some bit of sun that wanted to shine through. 

Mulder looked over his shoulder to address Scully, but instead found himself staring at a streak of blood that marred her porcelain face. "Scully, your nose," Mulder said as he went for his suit pocket to grab his handkerchief and held it out to her. She covered her nostrils with her left index finger vainly trying to stop the blood from trickling.  

"Thanks," Scully mumbled, "it must be the weather..." She begrudgingly reached for the handkerchief with her right, consciously avoiding Mulder's scrutiny and his proffered hand, but his fingertips grazed her inner wrist anyway.   _Why_ _hadn't she pack tissue in her purse?_ _!_ She turned away from him as she applied pressure right under her nose bridge with the handkerchief. 

Mulder studied his partner's demeanor for a brief moment and glanced back at the crime scene or what was left of it after the rain. Broken caution tapes fluttered from a slight breeze most likely due to a huge branch the fell during the storm, right into the indent where the body laid.  Mulder went around the large branch getting closer to the river's edge. He scanned beyond the area and spotted a coyote on the other side of the river staring right at him.  

"Mulder? Something catch your eye?" Scully asked from behind him after she composed herself. He risked a glance at her and noticed that she was staring at the large branch possibly trying to imagine the body retrieved from the mud.  

"Yeah, a coyote," he answered as he turned and pointed to where he saw the creature, but it disappeared.  Mulder scratched his head feeling slightly confused.  He was about to make his way towards Scully, but his left foot got caught in what he thought was a tree root. He raised his foot and unearthed what appeared to be a woven basket the size of an orange with intricate beading and weave design. Even in the muck, Mulder could see the craftsmanship of the basket. The beads looked like they were made of sea glass. "Hey, Scully, come take a look at this." 

Scully made her way to Mulder's side as he held up the basket towards some partial ray of sunlight that broke free from the clouds. The beads started to shimmer. "Odd place to find a basket, don't you think?" he asked. 

"Hmmm. People often go to rivers for recreation. Perhaps this basket was left behind or fell out of a canoe or something..." Scully trailed off, even she thought this reason sounded weak. It was odd to see a basket, a relatively unscathed one considering the area had been raining for several days. 

"Or something," Mulder partially agreed as he tucked the small basket in his right hand and headed back to the car. Scully lingered a moment; she looked over towards the area Mulder pointed to previously as she shoved her cold hands in her coat pockets. The right pocket held the bloodied handkerchief that her hand clutched tightly to. She made her way back to the car hoping that there wouldn't be such another incident on this trip.  


	6. Chapter 6

"Whaddya say we check into a local motel?" Mulder suggested while buckling himself in.

"Fine," Scully simply stated as she too settled in the car. "No matter how quaint an area is, you always seem to manage to find the seediest motels to stay at."

"You wound me, Scully. I seek budget-friendly, government-rate motels. It's not my fault they happen to be seedy," Mulder's tone cautiously kept light as this was Scully's first time making a crack at him since her return to the office after the Jerse case. He drove out of Healdsburg and made his way down to Santa Rosa. "It would be more convenient to be closer to the sheriff's and coroner's offices," he explained to Scully where he pulled into yet another nondescript motel with a vacancy sign on Mendocino Avenue. Scully got out of the car before Mulder had a chance to cut off the engine and made her way to the office to reserve two rooms.

"Good afternoon, miss," the old motel manager greeted as he looked up from reading the local newspaper. Scully noticed that the unexplained deaths weren't mentioned on the front page.

"I would like to book two rooms," Scully responded with a half-smile. She presented her badge and ID to the manager who then proceeded to grab a couple room keys and paperwork for her to sign. Scully looked out the office windows and noticed it started to drizzle again.

"Federal Agent, huh? Well, it's a good thing that you're missing out on the 'Sonoma Aroma' during your stay here," the manager said. 

"Excuse me?"

"The 'Sonoma Aroma', when the whole county smells like cow manure due to this place being farmland and all. The dairy farmers fertilize the soil when it's nice and sunny out."

"Oh, I see," Scully politely replied and strongly hoped that she would never have to work anywhere near cow manure. She quickly completed the paperwork and grabbed the keys.  

"Your rooms are at the very end of the parking lot."

"Thank you," Scully replied with a nod and stepped out of the office. She motioned to Mulder, who stayed in the car and let idle, to move it to the other end of the small parking lot as she briskly walked to their assigned rooms.  Scully unlocked the door to her motel room while Mulder left the car idle as he popped open the trunk and fished out their luggage.  She dropped his copy of motel key in his hand. "Where are you going?"

"I'm thinking of cruising along the boulevard," Mulder drawled as he unlocked his adjacent room and placed his luggage inside.

"Reliving your high school glory days?"

"I upgraded from my mom's station wagon."

"Cruise away, G-man," Scully replied and entered her room.

Scully heard the familiar knock on her door as she finished making arrangements with the county medical examiner to autopsy the third victim over her motel room phone.  The ME was more than happy to let the FBI take over the examination.  She opened the door to see Mulder carrying a plastic bag of what she assumed was their dinner, a drink tray, a couple of files, and a rolled-up poster.  He headed straight to the small table in her room and unceremoniously dropped everything in his hands.

"When did you get a chance to ask for copies of the reports from the sheriff's office?" Scully asked curiously as Mulder kicked off his dress shoes and made himself comfortable in  _her_  room. He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and plopped himself on the left side of the bed, closest to the table with the food.  Mulder reached out to grab one of the files.

"When I asked Sheriff Piccinini nicely," Mulder quipped, "Actually, everyone at the Sheriff's Office were very helpful.  Remember how Sheriff Deputy Giordano mentioned about being short-handed? Turns out that there are some pending sexual harassment lawsuits against the previous Sheriff and some of his staff. Piccinini is acting as the interim-sheriff for now.  He'd block off the local media from covering this case.  He didn't want any more attention and scrutiny from the public than necessary." 

"Hmmm..." Was Scully's response to the Sheriff's Office shake-up.  Being a female law enforcement officer was difficult in an "Old Boys Club" mentality.  She was fortunate enough to be partnered with an intense, and at times, borderline-insane individual who treated her on equal footing.  Though, she would have to admit, their footing has been unsteady—mostly on her end-- as she was still reassessing her priorities in life.

"I ordered a couple sandwiches from a deli down the street," Mulder continued on, "and wouldn't you know we're pretty close by to the Santa Rosa Junior College?" He cracked open the report.

"I just got off the phone with the medical examiner.  She is expecting to see me tomorrow morning at 9," Scully informed.  She peered into the bag.

"One's pastrami and the other is rosemary chicken breast," Mulder said without looking away from the file he had at hand, "Could you pass me the bag of sunflower seeds you see in there?”

“Mulder, need I remind you that this is  _my_  room? Please, no shells on my bed.” He waved his hand dismissively after she tossed him the bag.  He tore it open and popped a handful into his mouth, mulling over the seeds with his tongue.

Mulder did his best to not disturb this weird truce they currently had.   _So, what if she's avoiding his touches and not making eye contact,_ he thought, _she's here with him now to solve this case, wasn't it enough?_ _It_ _had to be enough. It needed_ _to be enough._ He realized after a moment lost in his thoughts that Scully had asked him a question.  He glanced over to see her primly eating the chicken breast sandwich on a portion of the small table she had cleared.

"I was asking what flavor drinks did you grab?"

"Neither of them are iced tea if that’s what you're wondering." He could make out Scully's huff as she grabbed for one of the drinks in the tray.  Mulder recalled that night when she chose to relieve him from the Eugene Tooms surveillance; it seemed to be such an innocent time back then. If he had allowed her to call him by his first name that night, then would she still be here with him? Would he let her go? She was redrawing the line that he first drew that night-- keeping him at arm's reach to watch his back, maintaining a professional relationship. The "R word" tripped up his thoughts.  He refocused on reading the file on his lap.  It contained details about the first victim found along the Russian River. He also recognized the name of a witness in the report that was mentioned in his source material.  He could hear paper rustling where Scully sat; she opened up the second file while eating her sandwich. He finally started to shuck the seeds in his mouth before he spat the shells into his hand and asked, "Anything catch your eye yet, Scully?"

"Well," she started thoughtfully, "since I have yet to see the ME's report on the victim, I would have to say no.  The report stated that they discovered the body in Forestville." She left her empty sandwich wrapper on the table in hopes that Mulder would use it to discard the sunflower shells.

"What?" Mulder looked up from his file slightly confused, "The first victim was found near Duncans Mills."  He tossed the file to the side, quickly stood up, discarded the shells onto the wrapper, and grabbed the poster he bought off the table. He tore off the plastic seal and unrolled it to reveal a map of the Russian River and the surrounding towns.  It was a poster best used for visitors, but obviously Mulder had another intention for it. He laid the poster on the bed. Mulder followed the Russian River with his left index finger and found the town almost near the coastline between Jenner and Monte Rio.  Forestville was the next town up from Monte Rio. Healdsburg further north from Forestville. 

"The bodies are discovered upstream," Scully murmured over his stooped position. "Still believe this is due to your water nymph?"

"Don’t be so quick to discount the water nymph angle when you haven't made a visit to the Coroner's office, Scully," Mulder slightly chided.  He knew he couldn't be closed off to the idea that this could be a serial murder case, which meant that his profiling skills would be needed. He was stumped, though. There really were no connection in terms of victims' physical descriptions to necessitate an MO for a possible serial killer.   He heard Scully yawning as she rubbed the place right between the eyes with her right hand.

"Before you can bounce ideas, Mulder. Good night," she said as she walked to her luggage to retrieve her nightly essentials from her bag.

"It's only 7pm, Scully. The night's still young," Mulder protested.

"Maybe for you, but my body is running 3 hours fast. Spare me my time." There it was again. Mulder recognized Scully's line in the sand as he watched her enter her motel bathroom. She shouted out, "Don't forget your pastrami sandwich, Mulder" and closed the bathroom door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm close to extracting the ideas in my mind...


	7. Chapter 7

It felt like hours ago when Scully kicked him out of her room. After finishing off his pastrami sandwich, reading the second file, and tossing the small basket up in the air a few times wishing it were a baseball, Mulder decided he should go on a run.  The rain stopped momentarily, and he figured that he would rather run in in a drizzle than in a flurry. He quickly changed out into his workout clothes, and put on his well-worn running shoes he always carried in his luggage. Mulder jogged along Mendocino Ave towards the junior college he spotted earlier.  The avenue was well lit as he made out co-op signs of a used record store and a small grocery market. He decided to run around the perimeter of the college and kept a steady pace until he made his way to the motel. 

He finally felt tired as he shuffled back to his room; his body taxed from the day’s activities. Mulder could make out the basket he'd placed on the small table from the outdoor motel light through the blinds.  The sea glass beadwork on the basket seemed to glimmer where the light touched. He switched on the bedside lamp and proceeded to do his night-time routine while on a case, which took no more than 20 minutes.  Mulder finally reposed himself on his bed and turned on the TV lowering the volume to near-mute, being considerate of Scully.  He settled on a channel that was playing old reruns of "Cheers".  He turned off the bedside light, and watched the scene before him, though not really paying attention as his mind decided it still wanted to process the files.  _The deaths are moving northbound, upstream of the Russian Riv_ _er, what did it mean?_ He started to think of what he needed to do tomorrow after he drop off Scully at the coroner's office, and drifted off to sleep.

Mulder was standing beside a riverbank in his work attire watching people enjoy their time on the river canoeing and rafting.  It was a nice day to be near water, the sky clear, the sun ablaze up above.  He recognized the area as being the site where they just discovered the third body.  He heard a young boy crying a little ways to his left. Mulder approached the boy who clearly looked lost as he saw no one nearby the river consoling the boy.  

"Hey," Mulder greeted as he crouched down to be eye-level with the boy, "Are you lost?"  The boy looked no older than 8 years old, with tanned-colored skin and raven black hair.  He was barely dressed in anything except for briefs, but it could be in anticipation of enjoying the day at the river. The boy was wiping his tears away with his forearms and finally looked up to meet Mulder's concerned gaze.  He had startlingly pale blue eyes that contrasted with his coloring. The boy nodded.

"I wanna go home. I wanna see Mama," the boy choked out. 

“Okay, I’ll help you find her,” Mulder replied. The boy stared at him partly in disbelief. “Really, come on, let’s start searching for your mom.”

“Okay,” the boy answered and grabbed Mulders left hand. He had a surprisingly strong grip. “We need to go this way…” and with a strength that shouldn’t belong to a young child, the boy dragged Mulder to the Russian River’s edge. 

“Wait-!” Mulder shouted, but didn’t have a chance to continue as the boy pushed him into the water. Mulder was standing knee-high in the river glaring at the boy, trying not to lose his cool while he tried to figure out a way to cross the river.  He suddenly felt something close in on his ankles, and got forcefully pulled deep into the waters.  He was gasping, gagging, struggling for air, thrashing for freedom.  The river was murky; Mulder couldn’t make out what was restraining him from breaking the surface but it had made its way up from his ankles to his upper body.  

" _Return him to me_ " He heard a low, sultry female voice in his mind, " _Or else you'll deal with my pet._ " Whatever was talking to him tightened its grip around his throat.  His lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen as he tried to pry off the creature and resurface.  He could make out the light that was breaking through the murkiness.  So close to fresh air.  Mulder continued to propel himself, kicking as hard as he could until he felt a cool hand on his forehead.

"NO!" Mulder hoarsely shouted and jolted upright in his bed. His room was dark minus the outdoor light streaming through the blinds. The bedsheet and blankets were disheveled around him.  He could make out Scully's silhouette as she was perched beside him on the edge of the bed.  His breathing was ragged, and his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest.  Scully pressed her right hand onto his forehead. 

"Hey," Scully said in her soothing, slightly husky tone that Mulder secretly loved, "It was only a dream. You're okay." Her hand migrated to the side of his face.  Mulder leaned into her touch a little too eagerly, but he didn’t care.  He just dreamt that he was drowning, he would relish in Scully's ministrations over him right now.  Was it because his room was dark that she didn’t mind the physical contact? Even as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could barely make out her features. 

"Sorry I woke you," he mumbled, his voice still feeling hoarse.  Mulder was still trying to calm himself as he leaned forward to rest his head on Scully's shoulder. The act shifted Scully’s hands to settle her hand at the back of his head. She continued to finger through his hair, helping him to relax. His lips rested near her clavicle; they barely felt the faint pulse of her heartbeat from the carotid artery. His cheek slightly rubbed against her satin pajamas. 

"I just so happened to be up to use the bathroom," Scully replied, "I heard some commotion and thought I'd check in." She could feel Mulder's chuckle forming as he nestled his head further against her shoulder and neck. She stopped her ministrations. 

"Hmm...My very own doctor coming in to save the day," he sighed and breathed in Scully's familiar scent. His breathing finally slowed; his body felt calm again since his anchor was present. "I had a strange dream, and I think it has something to do with this case." 


	8. Chapter 8

Mulder wasn't very forthcoming with his new theory after Scully left to return to her room. She didn’t even think about propriety when it came to hearing Mulder suffering through a nightmare on the other side of the wall. She just reacted out of habit. Every so often, shortly after returning to the field following her abduction, she would hear Mulder’s muffled cries through a thin motel wall, and realized he was dreaming about her; how he couldn’t save her, forever lost and eventually forgotten. It was during that time when he'd asked her to keep an extra copy of his motel key, so that he wouldn’t wake the other motel occupants. _Damn his eidetic memory_ , Scully had thought, _how much more guilt was he planning to shoulder? When will he realize there are just some burdens that aren’t his to bear?_ It was the wee hours of the morning by the time she rested on the lumpy pillows and hard mattress, trying to force herself back to sleep. She kept some tissue nearby this time, so that she wouldn’t have to make another trip to the bathroom.

  
Always the early riser due to insomnia, Mulder knocked on Scully’s motel door with two cups of coffee and bagels in hand. They had a half-hour before she had to go to the Coroner’s office. Scully was practically ready as she double- checked to make sure she had what she needed in her “pathology bag”. It usually consisted of her voice recorder with extra tapes and batteries, extra hair ties, a pair of Dansko clogs, and her toiletry bag to wash herself off of death.

  
“Breakfast of champions,” Mulder said as his greeting as he set Scully’s share down on her motel dresser.

  
“With you as my partner, my next meal may well be after 2pm,” Scully scoffed. She grabbed her coffee off the dresser and took a sip before tackling the multigrain bagel. “Alright, so what are your plans while I’m performing the autopsy on the third victim?”

  
“I was thinking of doing some research,” Mulder answered, “After I interrogate the witness from the first report.”

  
“Researching what?”

  
“The basket,” he mumbled as he stuffed his face with the last bite of his bagel. That answer earned him a raised eyebrow from Scully though she still wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. She was in mid-sip of her coffee.

  
“What does the basket you found have anything to do with this case?” she asked incredulously.

  
“It could be nothing or everything. Look, the forensic team didn’t retrieve it from the site, maybe they missed it.” Mulder shrugged, “I’m just doing my due diligence as an ‘FBI Special Agent’.”

  
“Does this have anything to do with your dream last night?”

Mulder didn’t reply. He finished gulping down his coffee, ready to start his day.

  
The trip to the Coroner's Office was less than ten minutes away. Scully watched Mulder drive away standing near the entrance lost in thought. She felt tired, the jetlag perhaps affecting her. Leonard Betts' statement " _You have what I need_ " recited in her mind; a statement she wasn't ready to face. It wasn't like her to be evasive of her health, but she was afraid of confirming the truth. What would it entail? What would happen to Mulder? That was the crux of it all: Mulder and his quest. _His_ files, _his_ life's work. “ _She was just assigned_ ,” he pointed out. Mulder conveniently forgot her life was entwined with the X-Files, gnarled and twisted, caught up in the conspiracy and subterfuge that surrounded Samantha's disappearance. Her rebellious act was one of self-preservation, her way of reclaiming her life back from the drawer that held her filename. Too bad it went awry. _Oh well_ , she thought, _Mulder got the message_. Then why was she avoiding him? _She desired his attention, but denied his affections…_ Something akin to panic welled up in her chest that she immediately quelled. Before she could further analyze her behavior, Scully abruptly ended her musings. There was an autopsy to perform after all.

  
She entered the building and was greeted by the ME, Dr. Susan Stone, who was accommodating enough to have prepped the victim in the autopsy room.

  
“I’m hoping you can give me your insight,” Dr. Stone replied as she led Scully to the changing room, “The death seems similar to the other two victims found along the Russian River.” Scully gave her a curious look before nodding.

  
“I’ll let you know if I find anything peculiar,” Scully replied. Dr. Stone returned to her office to finish up some paperwork, leaving Scully by herself to perform the examination. She attached her recorder onto the microphone stand by the autopsy bay, and started recording herself stating the usual information of date and time. Although a pathologist and a former Quantico instructor, Scully always took a moment to prepare herself mentally before she would pull back the sheet on a cadaver. She wasn’t prepared for what laid before her. She didn’t know if the recorder picked up her slight gasp, more out of shock than disgust. She composed herself.

  
“Preliminary observation: Victim is a Caucasian male possibly around 35-45 years of age. Several deep abrasions can be seen on his torso region and neck area. It looks to be bear-like claw marks. There are two distinct entry wounds, slightly jagged about two inches in length, one near the spleen and the other in the abdomen. Based on the location of the entry rounds, suspect is most likely right-handed.,” Scully continued her cursory glance along the arms and hands, “Defensive wounds detected on the forearms and hands. I see something here…” She trailed off as she examined the victim’s left palm and saw some black flint-like pieces. She collected the pieces to get them analyzed. She then started the autopsy. _So much for a water nymph_ , Scully thought as she performed a Y-incision.

  
Four hours later, Scully finally finished the autopsy and discovered what the flint-like pieces were: obsidian chips. She also collected several pieces of dark brown fur along the claw marks. Dr. Stone checked in on her and asked if she wanted to wash up to grab lunch with the staff. "We decided on Thai food," Dr. Stone said, "I'll have my assistant clean the room. You go and get ready. We all want to hear what your take is on this case."

  
After the niceties of being introduced to Dr. Stone's staff members which consisted of a desk clerk and an assistant, the four of them were seated in a Thai restaurant not far from the office. Scully didn't usually have Thai food; her usual diet consisted of salad, Chinese take-out, or pizza. She wondered when her food options became so narrowed, and realized it was when she started working with Mulder. _If she were to ever start shucking sunflower seeds and making a mess of her home, God help her_ , Scully thought with dismay as she scanned the lunch menu. She decided on shrimp panang curry. The four of them waited until their waitress took their orders before getting into a pathology discussion.

  
“So, these murders are able to attract the FBI, huh?” Cole the assistant asked. He seemed to be in his late 20’s and vaguely reminded Scully of Agent Pendrell, “Were you guys sent to hunt a possible serial killer?

  
“Not exactly,” Scully replied, “My partner and I are part of a division within the FBI that deal with…strange cases."

  
“It’s strange alright,” Cole agreed, “We don’t usually have cases like this. Dr. Stone can attest, she usually autopsies on people who’ve overdosed or died of natural causes."

  
“Speaking of your partner,” Karis the desk clerk piped in. She looked no more than 22 years of age sporting black, thick-rimmed cat eye glasses and a deep-red lipstick. “He called and left a message for you. He asked that you make your way to the junior college after the autopsy and research on ‘Pomo Indian mythology’.”

  
“Did he now?” Scully responded slightly annoyed with a quirked eyebrow. _Always his gopher_ , she seethed. She looked up and saw three pairs of eyes expectantly staring at her, waiting to hear an explanation. Scully chose to deflect and returned to the autopsies. “So the other two victims had similar causes of death to this third victim?”

  
Dr. Stone nodded. “The first two victims had deep scratch marks on the upper body and 4 entry wounds with a sharp object. We recovered traces of obsidian near the entry wounds. We couldn’t retrieve any finger prints, anything that could belong to the killer from the bodies. Instead we’ve collected dark brown animal fur near the abrasions."

  
“I collected dark brown animal fur off the third victim as well,” Scully replied. She wished she could offer more insight than what Dr. Stone told her. She was pleased to note that this ME was thorough, how many MEs had she come across that had missed a possible clue?

  
“So while you’re performing autopsies, what does your partner do in the meantime?” Cole asked curiously.

  
“I suppose you could say that he’s doing gumshoe work. He’s an expert on human behavior—“

  
“A bonafide profiler?” Karis interrupted, her interest piqued, “And you two work on strange cases? Does it often involve you having to research on cultural mythology?”

  
“Not often, no,” Scully answered as evasively as possible. Did she want these people to learn of Mulder’s initial crackpot theory?

  
“What’s the strange angle from these murders that brought you two over here then?” Cole pressed on with the interrogation.

  
Scully groaned internally and mentally reminded herself that Mulder’s theory was his own before she answered, “He thinks these deaths were caused by a water nymph, though his theory is in the stage of evolving into something else,” she wasn’t surprised to be looked at with incredulous stares.

  
“Must be a challenge working alongside someone that believes the tabloids,” Cole responded with a smirk.

  
“You have no idea,” Scully muttered. Where the _hell_ was her food?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I honestly didn't think my first ever fanfiction was going to be multi-chapter. I opened up a can of worms for myself. There's a line from Mumford & Sons' "White Blank Page" that inspired me to quasi-quote it within this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Mulder agreed to meet his "source material" witness he’d contacted early in the morning at a local café off Sebastopol Rd on the other end of town.  After dropping off Scully at the Coroner's office, he traveled on HWY-101 South for a few miles before jumping onto HWY-12, and then exiting shortly after.  The café was called Sam's For Play-- a small, whitewashed building surrounded by its small parking lot. Its signage had an Americana appeal to it as Mulder entered the quaint establishment.  He immediately felt out of place dressed in a suit and his trench coat.  He earned a few curious glances as he scanned the diner for the witness. Mulder saw a slight hand wave out of the corner of his eye to his right. 

The witness was a young man who looked to be around his early 20’s with dirty blond, buzz-cut hair wearing a pullover hoodie. His face was gaunt and he had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t had a good sleep in days. His face was grim when Mulder approached his table that seated two. “Matthew Halley?”

“You the fed?” Matthew asked in response.  Mulder nodded and took a seat. He noticed how Matthew was playing with the menu, but couldn’t decipher whether it was out of nervousness or indecision of wanting to order.

“Feel free to order anything from the menu,” Mulder offered, “since I plan to order myself some coffee.”

“You gotta try out Sam’s short stacks. Best short stacks in town,” Matthew said with a slight hint of a smile this time, “Thanks.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mulder replied. He motioned for the waitress standing behind the counter come over to take their orders.  After ordering two cups of coffee and an order of short stacks, Mulder started his interrogation.

“Where do you wanna start?” he asked.  Matthew shrugged and slouched back on his chair.

“Does it matter? I spoke truthfully and I see this go to some bogus tabloid,” Matthew lamented, “People around me think I’m crazy. That I’m making this shit up because I can’t get over the fact that my best friend’s dead.”

“It matters to me, Matthew,” Mulder said, “That’s why I’m here to seek the truth that you speak of.” He could see the young man was becoming less wary of him. The waitress returned with the coffee and creamer.

“Okay, my friend Patrick was in town from Lancaster visiting. It’s been awhile since he’s been up here and the two of us decided to head to Jenner to shoot the breeze, you know? Just passing time joking and reminiscing. He asked if I could be his best man once he proposes to his girlfriend, Audrey,” Matthew let out a sardonic chuckle. He proceeded to prep his coffee, took a sip, and continued, “It’s what we did when we were in high school. Drive to Jenner, walk along the beach there, take in the scenery. It was our way of staying out of trouble.”

“Did you guys run into anything unusual during your walk?” Mulder asked. Matthew looked up at Mulder then surprised. He had been talking with his chin tucked under staring at the edge of his side of the table.

“Patrick did find something underneath some driftwood,” Matthew recalled, “I remembered him saying he was going to bring it back to Audrey.”

“Do you remember what it was?” 

“I think it was a basket.” There was a pause as the waitress returned with Matthew’s short stacks and maple syrup. He slathered the stacks with the syrup and started to eat. It gave time for Mulder to think of his next question, without sounding too bizarre as he took a sip of his own coffee.

“Did Patrick happen to see anything unusual before or after he found the basket? Like a coyote?” Mulder asked.  _Okay, it still sounded bizarre,_ he thought to himself,  _just don’t scare off Matthew_.

Matthew stopped mid-chew looking at Mulder with a mixed expression on his face of incredulity and consternation. He swallowed his food and responded, “A coyote sighting? Patrick didn’t mention it to me if he did. I don’t think he would’ve believed it if he saw one.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we’ve never run across a coyote in Jenner. Ever.”

“Tell me how you found out about Patrick’s death,” Mulder replied switching gears, “The Sheriff’s report stated that you were a witness.”

“Yeah, to the discovery of his body,” Matthew spat out clearly upset, “I should’ve went with him. Maybe if I had been with him, then he wouldn’t be dead.”

“What happened, Matthew? What didn’t you tell the Sheriff?”

“I told him everything. What did the report say?”

“Only that you found his body.”

“Pat called me up the next day, and asked if I could join him back down to Jenner that evening. He sounded scared. He said that he dreamt something about a water creature out to get him if he didn’t return back what it wanted. The only thing he could think of was that basket. I told him I couldn’t; I was scheduled to work the swing shift at Medtronic starting that day.”

“Why the evening? Why didn’t he just go during the day?” Matthew shrugged.

“I dunno. I told him to call me if something was wrong. I came home around midnight. There were no messages, so I went to sleep. I get a call-- early-- from his mom, hella worried about him asking if I knew where he was. I told her his plans on driving to Jenner…” he started stabbing at the bits of short stacks and swirled them around on the plate covered in maple syrup. “I decided to head to Jenner right then and there. The road out there gets dark at night; not much lighting. I just figured his car must have got stuck along the way, you know? I found his car parked on the edge of the road across from Duncan Mills post office and headed down towards the river…”

“And that’s where you found him,” Mulder finished the sentence.

“Yeah,” Matthew managed to choke out.


	10. Chapter 10

Mulder watched as the old Jeep drove off carrying a young man full of guilt over the "what ifs".  He could empathize with Matthew; he was the King of Guilt.  How many people had Mulder lost through the years since he found the X-Files in hopes to uncover the truth? How many more will follow?  _You can't seek absolution from the dead_ , he thought morosely,  _only from the living_. He chewed on his lower lip as his thoughts turned to Scully.  There were a handful of times when he'd almost lost her in the line of duty. Nearly lost himself when she was abducted…he couldn't afford to lose her; he owed her too much. 

Mulder reached for some sunflower seeds from a bag stashed in his trench coat he purchased that morning.  He made his way to the rental car thinking of how he was going to conduct research on a basket.  He decided to head to the Sheriff’s office to ask for help.  Mulder parked and entered the office. Instead of the desk clerk from yesterday, he was greeted by a young deputy with neatly trimmed dark hair. The deputy smiled warmly at Mulder as he greeted, “Good morning, Agent Mulder. How can I be of service?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe we were formally introduced,” Mulder replied slightly surprised by the affable deputy. The man extended his hospitality with a handshake.

“My name’s Clint Chubel, Agent Mulder. Sheriff Piccinini filled me in about you and Agent Scully helping us with the ongoing investigation about the Russian River deaths. He said to expect seeing people dressed like Feds. Do you need us to gather more files for you?”

“No, actually. I have an unusual request: I wanted to know if you could help direct me in finding out more about this…” Mulder showed Chubel the basket he’d been palming. Chubel studied it thoughtfully for a couple seconds.

“Where did you find this? It looks...” Chubel appeared as if he was searching his memory as he held up the basket to admire the sea glass weaved into the design. “I wanna say it reminds me of Pomo Indian baskets.”

Mulder must have had a bemused expression, as the sheriff deputy sheepishly shrugged and explained, "I'm a Santa Rosa native. It was part of our local history lessons in high school. You may wanna swing by the Healdsburg Museum off Matheson St, about a block or two away from the town square. You can't miss it.  It's located next to a church and there's a large bell out in front." Chubel drew a rough map for him.

Mulder politely thanked the sheriff deputy and left. He took out the bag of sunflower seeds from his trench coat and placed it in the center console, popping a couple in his mouth. He made his way to Healdsburg again taking in the scenery as he passed by a chateau surrounded by a vineyard and the signage “Kendall Jackson Winery” on the left, and what looked like a theatre further up north on the right with an interesting art structure. Napa Valley made itself known as one of the epicenters for wine, but Sonoma County had also distinguished itself in the industry--in particular-- Sonoma Valley.  He'd learn of Sonoma County's accolades in the wine industry years ago when he swung by for that spree killer. Funny, he could remember all these factoids and he wasn't even a wine connoisseur but, then again, he could spout a lot of subjects from alien abduction to mysticism and baseball statistics like nobody's business. 

_T_ _oo_ _bad they're actually on assignment_ , Mulder thought as he shucked the seeds,  _or else the two of them could go wine_ _tasting_. Both he and Scully noted on the drive north the rows of gnarly-looking grapevines that spanned along the county hills with the occasional scenery of cattle grazing. Times like this he wished he weren't red/green colorblind. He would've liked to see how green the fields were after a rainfall.  But who was he kidding, neither he nor Scully hung out outside of work.  The one time he wanted to take her anywhere “fun” was the Redskins game but that case nearly killed her. He spat the empty shells in his hand and discarded them out the window. A habit he developed during long stakeouts with Scully.  _Shit_ , he thought drily,  _she had him trained._

Mulder didn't have any trouble locating the museum. He parked on the street across from the stone building and marched up a dozen steps before reaching the entrance. He entered and was greeted by a plump, elderly woman at the welcome desk wearing an almost comical-looking, coke-glass shaped glasses. 

"Hello, I was told to come here regarding this basket I found yesterday," Mulder said as he presented his badge and placed the basket on the counter top. 

"Oh my!" The volunteer exclaimed, flustered, her first time encountering an FBI agent, "Let me call Savannah from her office. She would know how to help!"  Mulder didn't wait more than five minutes when a middle-aged, slim-looking woman approached him dressed in a flowy brown skirt and a mauve-colored oversized sweater--a modern gypsy look. Her peppered-colored hair was clasped in a half-ponytail that went down to her waist.  Mulder had a brief image of Melissa Scully in his mind, imagining that she would age gracefully if she were still alive.

"You must be Savannah, " Mulder stated politely shaking her hand.

"Hello, Margie said you need help with the origins of a basket?” Savannah asked as she eyed the basket that was still left on the info desk countertop.  Mulder nodded as she gently picked up the basket. "Follow me, Agent Mulder." She led him to the back-left corner of the museum where there were a dozen or so woven baskets of different shapes and sizes all intricate in their designs. Some included feathers on the brim as well as wooden beads placed in the patterns. The smallest basket Mulder noted looked like the size of a golf ball. "These Pomo Indian baskets that you see here are on loan from Genevieve Allen Aguilar. This is just a fraction of her extensive basket collection her mother Elsie Allen had bequeathed to her to share the Pomo Indian culture." Mulder took in the display and the enlarged black-and-white photo of an elderly Pomo Indian woman who he assumed to be Elsie Allen carrying a woven basket behind her back.  "I honestly haven't seen the weaving pattern on any of the baskets that we have here, but the craftsmanship on the basket you found is exquisite. If anything, Mrs. Aguilar would be able to assist you. Would you like me to contact her for you?"

"Yes, please. I would like to see her today if possible," Mulder replied as he continued to study the various baskets on display. There weren't any sea glass beads on the baskets like the one he found. Savannah returned a few moments later with an address and phone number on a post-it note. 

“Mrs. Aguilar will be expecting you. Hopefully HWY 101 won't be so bad heading to Graton,” Savannah stated and handed Mulder the post-it note. 


	11. Chapter 11

Sluggish. It summed up Mulder’s trip to down to the Aguilar residence perfectly. The inclement weather that first started off as a sprinkle when Mulder left the museum then turned into a downpour; it made the trek down from Healdsburg to Graton slow-moving. At one point, Mulder thought he was following the storm, until it finally teetered off by the time he reached Santa Rosa.  Genevieve Allen Aguilar resided on the outskirts of the southern end of city, encroaching upon the incorporated town of Graton off Stony Point Rd.  He finally pulled up the car onto wet gravel that graced Aguilar’s driveway and took a moment to breathe after being in traffic.  Mulder saw an elderly male peer through the front window when he gathered the basket and his trench coat.  The front door opened once he approached the residence. Standing before him was an elderly woman with wavy salt-and-pepper hair, her face weathered from years of being in the sun and life happenstances. She gave Mulder a warm smile that reached her brown eyes, her laugh lines becoming more pronounced as her smile widened. 

“You must be Genevieve Aguilar,” Mulder said as he reached for his badge, “I’m Special Agent Mulder. Savannah told me that you may be able to help with my…research.”

Genevieve pulled out her reading glasses from her cardigan pocket to look at Mulder’s badge, then asked quizically, "Your name is Fox?" 

Mulder nodded, "My mother claims it’s a family name.” Genevieve stepped aside and ushered him into her cozy home. 

"Foxes are sly and cunning, but in our culture the Coyote is the one that takes its place in folklore," Genevieve responded with a smile, "but I know you're not here to compare and contrast Native Indian mythologies.” She led him through the hallway to the living room where the elderly man was still standing by the window. The man had leathery-looking skin, years from being under the sun himself with neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair and a set of bushy eyebrows. He introduced himself as being Ralph Aguilar, “Gen’s husband”.

The three sat down in the quaint living room that was filled with family photos on the walls and a couple baskets tastefully placed along the fireplace mantle. The décor was eclectic as Mulder took in his surroundings. It seemed to him that the couple loved traveling based upon the souvenirs placed upon their corner bookcase. He could see that there was a tea set placed on the coffee table.

“Please, help yourself to some tea, FBI man,” Ralph offered as he made a move to pour himself some, “Warm yourself up.” Mulder thanked him for the offer and poured himself a cup.  It was an herbal tea and he could taste some type berry and a hint of cinnamon.  

"I don't know what Savannah told you, but she said that you're an expert with Pomo Indian basketry," Mulder started and reached for the basket he'd placed under his trench coat by his side, " I found this along the Russian River bank in Healdsburg."  He held it up for the couple to see, then handed it over to Genevieve who still had her reading glasses perched on her face.  She studied the basket a great deal, leaving the two men to do idle chit-chat, which Mulder sorely hated to do in general until Ralph mentioned that he was a huge San Francisco Giants baseball fan.  The two conversed about baseball with ease until finally Genevieve spoke.

"Fox, this basket..." Genevieve was searching for words. She had a look of wonder on her face as she continued, "is very unique and it is indeed weaved by a Pomo. There's 29 different weave designs that play a part of our culture, such as an animal representation and nature, but this...besides the lattice weave, the design here on this row is unknown to me. It appears to represent some sort of animal, but it doesn't follow the usual pattern seen..." She pointed to the middle row of the basket where there were some sort of zig-zag design that consisted of 4 short dashes evenly spaced out. “And these,” she continued pointing to the sea glass beads, “we don’t see these as nature. I would understand if they were shell beads, but sea glass is unnatural.” She handed the basket over to Ralph for him to inspect.

“Where did you say you found this basket again, FBI man?” Ralph asked frowning.

“I stumbled across this by the riverbank in Healdsburg literally after spotting a coyote nearby,” Mulder answered slightly confused by the couple’s reaction as the two gave each other a look.  It was something only the two of them understood, years of marriage and knowing each other’s tells. Ralph then placed the basket on the coffee table and got up from his chair heading into a different room while Genevieve redirected her attention again to Mulder.

“Why don’t you stay for lunch? I make a pretty mean chili. It will give me enough time to make you a charm before you leave.”

“A charm? What for?”

“For protection, Fox. You’ve stepped into a big heap of trouble.”

Mulder’s memory of his dream started to swirl wildly in his mind. The strange deaths occurring traveling upstream…a hunch started to form. He got up from his seat and asked, “Do you mind if I make a phone call? I need to ask my partner to do some research for me…”


	12. Chapter 12

"Why am I doing this?" Scully muttered to herself after Cole was kind enough to drop her off at the junior college.  She located the library fairly easily and appreciated the campus' neoclassical buildings surrounded by oak trees, trimmed bushes, and grass. Scully quietly approached the librarian and asked to be directed to the shelves that would contain "Pomo Indian Mythology".  The librarian politely smiled at Scully, and wrote down the call number while giving her a verbal description where the shelves would be located.  The mythology and folklore section was apparently placed in the back corner of the one-story library next to theology.  Scully caught a young couple scurrying away shame-faced when they heard her approach, and she let out a sigh. Mulder's request was vague, and she had no way of contacting him due to the lack of cell phone reception.  She started gathering books pertaining to Native American legends and myths. She turned to head to one of the long study tables, but abruptly bumped into a tall and wiry individual causing a couple of the books to fall between them.

"Sorry," Scully apologized confused as she kneeled down at the same time as the man before her. Flustered that she didn’t hear anyone approaching in the quiet library, Scully wrote it off as being too occupied as the man handed the books back to her. 

"No, no. It's my fault," the man responded as he stood up, "I didn't dodge you in time." Scully looked up at him once she raised herself to standing height.  She couldn't place an age to the man; he had light brown hair that was turning gray and amber-colored eyes set against olive skin. It was a striking combination of features, and Scully must have said it aloud as the man gave her a small smile and thanked her for the compliment.  She felt herself blushing as she made her way to one of the long tables placed in the wider aisles. To her surprise, the man had followed her.  She looked at him curiously as she set the books down.

"May I help you?" She asked stiffly.

"Sorry, I don't mean to scare you, but you actually took a book that I wanted to reserve.  Do you mind if I could have it?" The man responded, "I'm an adjunct professor here for anthropology. I go by Wiley with my colleagues, Professor Wiley with my students." Scully gave him a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod.

“So Wiley… you’re Irish?” Scully asked. She found it hard to believe. He shook his head.

“No, you could say I’ve adopted the last name,” Wiley said with a ghost of a smile, “but tell me, you don’t look like you’re a student here.”

“You’re right. I’m Special Agent Dana Scully on assignment with the FBI," she fished out her badge from her trench coat," My partner asked me to look into Pomo Indian Mythology, so here I am,” Scully replied with a flourish of her left hand gesturing towards the books as she tucked away her badge with her right.  Wiley tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“It is a shame, don’t you think? These indigenous people now casted to obscurity in society-- the books published don’t even capture all of the oral stories passed down for generations,” Wiley remarked with a hint of bitterness in his tone, “it’s left to the ones that wish to keep their memories, their history alive."

"History is written by the victors?" Scully offered sarcastically. Her mind lingered on the word “obscurity”.  It best described her current state within the X-Files division.

"Or more like history is a set of lies that people agreed upon," Wiley replied, "It's why you're researching mythology.  You don't need to categorize whether these stories are truths or lies. You look at it with the perspective of cultural belief."

Scully cleared her throat as her response. She took a seat and reached for one of the books titled Pomo Indian Myths And Some Of Their Sacred Meanings and opened it to the table of contents.  She noticed that Wiley hadn't reached for the supposed book he wanted to reserve, instead he was studying her for a brief moment.  He finally grabbed the top book from the pile and tucked it under his left arm.  Scully noticed he took the only other book she had in the pile pertaining specifically to Pomo Indian mythology.

"Agent Scully, whatever you're researching won't be fully revealed in these books.  Remember the names mentioned in the myths instead. It will lead to what you’re looking for," Wiley advised as he walked away.  Scully started to feel the tension headache returning as she listened to his footsteps fading away.  _Short-lived reprieve_ , she thought annoyed.


	13. Chapter 13

He felt tired; the wet road conditions coupled with rush hour traffic wore on him after he left the Aguilar residence. Mulder leaned back against his car seat as he was waiting to make the left turn into the motel parking lot on Mendocino Ave, his hands at the 10-and-2 position on the wheel.  He noticed the protective charm Genevieve made peeking from under his shirt sleeve.   _She did make a mean chili_ , he thought.

 He recounted their conversation while he was sitting at her kitchen table.  While the front of the house was thoughtfully decorated, the back of the house held more knick-knacks-- more fond memories with the walls covered in family pictures, Pomo baskets, and some toddler toys scattered on the floor.  Genevieve directed him to “the only phone in the house” she said as she and Ralph didn't like technology too much.  It was a sage green corded wall phone complete with the rotary dial front attached on one of her kitchen walls.  She took the hint to give him some privacy when Mulder politely glanced at her before dialing the Coroner’s office. After a brief, yet slightly awkward exchange with the clerk at the Coroner’s office, Mulder discovered he got himself tangled up with the cord.  The bubbly clerk flustered him enough to where he didn’t realize his movements.  _There was a reason why I switched over to cordless_ , he thought as he untangled himself.   Genevieve returned to the kitchen and ladled some chili into one of the bowls she set aside near the stovetop.  She motioned at him to grab a seat at the kitchen table. 

"It won't be long until Ralph comes back from the garage with the material I need," Genevieve said as she placed the bowl of chili with a spoon in front of Mulder, "He just has to remember where he placed it first!" 

She went back into her kitchen, fished out a basin from one of her cabinets, and placed it under the kitchen sink to fill it up with water.  Mulder glanced up once he saw Ralph enter the kitchen and handed Genevieve a long reed.  He continued to thoughtfully chew his food as he watched her cut the reed into thirds and placed the pieces into the basin while Ralph ladled two bowls of chili for the two of them. More small talk over chili, except Mulder did most of the listening while the old couple spoke about their hobbies after retirement.  He politely smiled, still savoring his bowl of chili.  Preoccupied with what she intended to do for Mulder, she stopped eating her bowl of chili and returned to the kitchen sink. Mulder heard her say under her breath as she left the table, "It should be soaked enough by now." Curious, he quickly finished his bowl of chili and followed her to the sink with his dirty dish.

"You can leave it there on the counter," Genevieve said motioning with her chin. He watched as her hands deftly braided the pieces of reed in the water taking it out of the basin every couple plaits to tighten it further.  She casually explained to him that the reed was blessed by one of the shamans, on Ralph's side of the family as if it were an everyday occurrence.  She knotted the ends and quickly toweled off her hands. "Alright, which wrist?" Mulder gave her an amused expression; since a watch took up real estate on his left wrist, he held out his right for her to bind.  It felt almost juvenile.

"This is supposed to protect me how?" He asked curiously.

A car honked from behind interrupting Mulder's recollection as it brought him back to the present.  _Tired. Late afternoon. Traffic._  There was finally a safe enough gap for Mulder to make the turn into the motel parking lot.  He pulled into a parking space close to his motel room and noticed that the light was on in Scully's room.  He got out of the rental and approached her door.  As tired as he was, Mulder knew that the two of them had to catch up on their findings.  He was curious about the autopsy.  He drew in a breath and knocked.  He could make out a silhouette moving across the veiled window and heard the door unlock and slightly opened.

"You're just in time," Scully said as she returned back to laptop placed atop the small table, "I'm just about finished with the autopsy write-up." She sat back down and stretched out the left side of her neck by tilting her head to the right before typing again.  Mulder closed the door behind him and walked a few short paces to slouch in a chair across from Scully.  He noticed a Taco Bell bag by her laptop. 

"'Yo quiero Taco Bell', Scully?" Mulder asked slightly amused that she would choose this place of all places. Perhaps the overplayed chihuahua commercial finally got to her.

"Shut it, Mulder. This is dinner. Unless you want to venture out in this rain again or hold out for over an hour for pizza delivery," Scully replied still not taking her eyes off the screen nor stop typing, "It was on the way back walking from the junior college after running a fool's errand for you."

"Fool's errand?!" Mulder responded, "Since when--"  _Shit_ , he didn't want to argue right now. He ran his hands from his face to his hair feeling aggravated and growled out, "What did you find out with the autopsy?"

"That it was an unusual death. Nothing that would pertain to a water nymph though," Scully answered with a conciliatory tone in her voice.  She took Ibuprofen a few minutes ago and it hadn't kicked in yet for her headache.  She didn't need to be snarky, not while Mulder was here trying to figure out this case. Scully saved her report and closed her laptop.  She arched her back slightly in the chair and stretched her arms atop her head.  She could see Mulder's gaze through her lashes as she straightened herself on the chair and recounted her findings along with the ME's reports of the first two victims.

"Don't think a water nymph carries around a pointy object to stab people," Mulder commented drily, "But I found out how the 'water nymph' played out in my source material. Turns out the witness mentioned his friend dreamt of a water monster and died the next day.  They ate it up and ran with the story."

"Are you finally conceding that this isn't an X-File?" Scully asked.  

"Au contraire, Scully. What did you dig up on Pomo Indian mythology?"  Mulder straightened himself on his chair forcing him to stay alert.  He forgot his sunflower seeds in the car to keep him occupied.

"Besides creation stories and relocation stories, nothing much stood out from the books I gathered.  Coyote plays a prominent role in their creation stories, and there's mention of Bear Shamans though that term is considered misleading.  These shamans are more akin to berserkers, they don on bear skin and emanate the qualities of a bear," Scully paused recalling the adjunct professor, "There was a man that asked for a book he planned to reserve—an anthropology adjunct professor by the name of Wiley.  He took the only other book pertaining specifically to Pomo Indian mythology."

"How convenient. What are the odds of not one but two Irish people researching on this?" Mulder teased.

"He didn't look Irish.  He said he adopted the surname for whatever reason..." 

"Wile E. Coyote," Mulder remarked. He was tired if his mind was associating someone to a Looney Tunes character.  Scully shook her head and pinched her nose bridge at his lame response.  

"Mulder, get some rest.  I know I need it," Scully sighed, "We'll continue this tomorrow."  

"You okay, Scully?" Mulder's tone was tentative.  He noticed that Scully looked pale in the dim light.

"Hmmm...headache," she answered still rubbing at her nose bridge.

"I noticed that you were popping pills since we arrived here, Scully."

"I'm fine, Mulder." There was a slight edge to her voice as she cleaned up her workspace—by gathering the laptop and placing it into its bag.

"Could it be residual side effects of what happened?" Mulder pressed on not completing the entire question.  He knew Scully knew what he was referring to; it was the first time he alluded to Philadelphia.

"No!" She exclaimed firmly shaking her head. She got up from her chair and headed to the dresser to retrieve her pajamas.   She remained transfixed at the meager belongings in the top drawer and let out a huff before she continued, "I'll be fine, Mulder.  Take the Taco Bell bag with you. I'm not hungry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How else was I going to mention the 90's pop-culture phenomenon of the Taco Bell chihuahua? =)


	14. Chapter 14

Mulder found himself standing beside what he knew was the Russian River.  He didn’t remember being here before, but there was a familiarity about this place. Mulder could make out a huge rock feature that was upstream of the winding river in the distance but he was still surrounded by vegetation, full of shrubs and mature trees. The sky was overcast, the weather crisp.  He scanned the area. It was eerily silent.  He heard a rustling sound a few yards behind him in the brushes, and a sense of dread welled up in him as he turned around.  It was then that Mulder got pulled and dragged into the waters again. He gasped for air in the murky, chilly waters trying to claw at what was strangling him by the throat. 

Mulder heard the creature in his mind,  _My pet is tracking_ _you._  Mulder tried to wrap his head around all this. It wasn't like he could speak aloud under the waters, struggling for air.  He shouted out mentally in response, hoping the creature could hear him.

_What are you?_ He felt the creature tighten its hold around his throat.

_It won't be long until_ _Skylalal's_ _returned to me._ Mulder finally saw the creature's face when it confronted him.  Its face was that of a woman with a ghostly pale complexion framed by her long dark hair floating in the water.  The face suddenly transformed into something more sinister; its bulging eyes were glowing red with an abnormally wide mouth and sharp teeth. _I know your face now..._ That statement shocked him, and he started to thrash in the water attempting to kick the creature away.

"Mulder!" He felt a cool hand pressed to his forehead.  He jolted awake.

"We gotta stop meeting each other like this," Mulder quipped in a ragged voice. His breathing still uneven from his second encounter with the Russian River creature.  When did he fall asleep? He felt slightly disoriented, but he could vividly recall seeing the creature's bulging, glowing red eyes. It looked reptilian, like that of a frog.

"Hmmm..." Scully replied as she continued her ministrations. He felt clammy like last time. "I'd rather meet you like this in a motel room than you recovering on a hospital bed."

"Oooh, Scully.  You coming onto me?"

"In your sick and twisted dreams, Mulder...So, finally care to talk about this one?" He gently reached for her hand on his face to keep it still.  He tried to make out her features in the darkness again.

"If you care to tell me what's really bothering you, Scully," he answered quietly. Mulder could hear Scully's intake of breath.

"Are you finally using your degree on me?" she sighed. Scully's turn to joke.  _It's what they do_ , Mulder mused,  _quip and deflect, wax and wane._ Mulder avoided trying to profile Scully these past few days. He didn't want to profile his partner now or ever.  He did at the beginning of their partnership, but it was more out of necessity to know who got sent down to the basement to spy on him.  Mulder felt Scully shift herself on his bed pulling her right leg up onto the mattress to better face him. Her hand fell away from his face then, and both the side of her right knee and hand rested against his right thigh that was tangled up in the scratchy blanket. 

 "It isn't about a desk," Scully stated.

"I can tell that much."

"It's about me feeling like I'm getting swallowed whole by the X-Files. How I don't have a life outside of this work-- it's no one's fault but my own. I chose to prioritize the work rather than socializing, but somewhere along the way I felt like I lost sight of myself.  Of who I am before uncovering a government conspiracy. You said so yourself that the X-Files is your life's work, and I'm merely there because I was assigned."

Mulder winced recalling that tense interlude before his trip to Graceland.  _He is an asshole_. He bit his bottom lip to refrain from interrupting Scully. "But I love the work, I do. I find it challenging in many ways, with a crackpot partner and my scientific background put to the test. I just wanted to leave my mark somewhere that's not in a filing cabinet as a subject matter."

"I'd take 'crackpot' over 'spooky' any day with you," Mulder replied deprecatingly.  He leaned forward. It was his turn to reach out and cup one side of Scully's face.  Why did it seem to be such an intimate act coming from him than from her? It brought him back to the first time he performed this gesture when he expressed his condolences at the loss of her father.  His thumb rested near the corner of her mouth as he continued, "Scully, I don't know how to say this but I see you." He realized the irony as he said this, sitting in the dark. He could sense Scully about to interrupt him, so he rushed through in a low tone, "No, I mean I really  _see_  you. You are so much more than just a name in the filing cabinet. You're a daughter, a sister, a doctor, a federal agent, but most importantly a friend—one who is almost loyal to a fault. One who is willing to put up with this crackpot agent's paranoia and ramblings, towing the line to keep me from being admitted to a mental institute or left for dead. Scully-- I don't know how or where you view yourself in all this, but _…I see you.”_

"Okay," Scully replied thickly and swallowed hard. Her eyes teared up during Mulder's sentiment and she was glad that the two of them were shrouded in darkness.  She hated showing any weakness to him, though she knew that he didn't see her as anything but weak. It was the emotional vulnerability that she wasn't comfortable showing. One of her tears rolled down her face on the side where Mulder's hand rested. It made contact with his thumb and he lightly swiped it away, leaving behind a cool yet electrifying sensation on her skin.

Mulder wouldn't say he was surprised to feel a tear, but he knew he got through to Scully based on her reaction. A part of him wanted to tell her that he thought she looked beautiful when she cried, but that would ruin the moment they were currently experiencing.  She would clock him for that comment. _It wouldn't be a pretty way to end the night_ , he mused.  Instead, Mulder moved his hand to brush her hair behind her ear, causing his bracelet to catch in a few of her strands.

"Ow!" She responded, the moment of intimacy gone. Mulder pulled away his hand mumbling an apology as she plucked at what snagged her.  She held the brittle, thin reed in her forefinger and thumb. "Mulder, what is this? A blade of grass?"

"No," he replied solemnly, "It means I’m running out of time.”


	15. Chapter 15

" _That's_ your plan?" Scully asked in disbelief with an arched eyebrow staring at him, "You're just not going to fall asleep?" She'd left his room after their heartfelt conversation and Mulder's assurance that he figured out what he needed to do to not have his dreams.  She didn't think it would be ridiculous when she returned later that morning to check in and prep for the day. 

"Yup. Like  _Nightmare on Elm Street_.  That Russian River creature can't get to me if I stay awake and don't dream," Mulder answered. He brewed his third cup of coffee in the motel room since Scully left and he was just about finished with his bag of sunflower seeds he grabbed from the rental car an hour ago.  He sat down by the foot of his disheveled bed, dressed and armed for the day, tapping his foot with nervous energy to face Scully.  He was an avid insomniac. He could deny himself sleep until the case is closed.   _Just like being in VCS again_ , he thought darkly.  

"Hmmm... I hope for your sake it doesn't end like the movie," she jested. Mulder let out a sardonic chuckle. "You don't think this water creature has anything to do with stress? Your mind fixated on your 'source material'?" 

Mulder gave her a bland expression. He was glad that she was giving him direct eye contact again despite her usual skepticism thrown at him.  "No, actually. These dreams started to occur once I found that basket." He pointed to the dresser where it was perched on top.  Scully was leaning on the dresser, so she slightly twisted herself and grabbed the aforementioned object. 

"Care to share your dreams now, Mulder? I'm all ears," Scully offered as she cradled the basket in both her hands.   _How odd_ , she thought,  _it felt warm to the touch_.  He recounted the two dreams he had involving a mysterious boy in the first.  Both times the Russian River and the water creature playing a role in his dreams. 

"I saw its face, Scully. It morphed from a pale-faced woman to some type of reptile, like a frog, with red-colored eyes and wide set of claw-like teeth," Mulder finished in a slight frenzy.  The third cup of coffee kicked in. 

"Pale-faced woman?" Scully responded.  She blinked a couple times, "I read about a pale-faced woman with a body of a frog...The Pomo referred to her as 'Frog Woman'." 

"This creature definitely didn't have a frog body as it was strangling me both times with its tentacles or whatever it used to strangle. I caught a sight of its face, not its body." 

"Wiley did advise me to focus on the names rather than the fokelores and myths themselves..." Scully trailed off, seemingly lost in thought, "Maybe you did come face-to-face with the Frog Woman in your dreams." 

"She knows my face now. She mentioned a name...sounded like ‘sky’," Mulder continued to recall. 

"Skylalal, the 'Gray Squirrel' a.k.a. 'Obsidian Man'," Scully clarified, "Just another central character in the Pomo Indian mythology involved with relocation stories and fables... I still don't understand how this is connected to the basket in any way.  How this basket and the victims are connected..." 

"They're connected, Scully. She also mentioned that she unleashed her pet on me; it’s tracking me. My theory is that the basket is what the Frog Woman is seeking and her pet killed the first three victims before they had a chance to return it into the river, but not just any part of the river, hence you see the killings moving north.” 

"First: The pet in question is most likely a human that used a sharp obsidian object to stab his or her victims. Second: If we go along with your new theory, then why didn't you run off north and meet a deadly end the next day beside the Russian River? If that's been the M.O. for the last three victims?" Mulder shrugged feeling flustered. 

"I dunno, Scully. Maybe it takes more than a river creature to scare me ever since I came across mutants like Eugene Tooms, the Flukeman, or Leonard Betts." Scully was taken aback by Mulder's mentioning of Betts as she stopped fidgeting with the basket and placed it back on the dresser.  She leaned back and focused her attention looking at a corner of Mulder's bed and unconsciously licked her upper lip.  He sensed something was off and asked, "Scully, is something wrong?" 

"No. Everything's fine, Mulder," she answered, her eyes flickering up briefly to meet his gaze before shifting them away again, "So your first dream drove you to find out more about this basket?”   

Mulder nodded, “I was referred to a nice Pomo Indian couple who didn’t exactly provide me much information besides giving me details of the weave patterns, and the fact that sea glass beads aren’t used in Pomo-made baskets because they’re unnatural.  The wife mentioned about mythologies and folklores, so that was why I requested you to research on the subject.  She made this ‘protective charm’ for me once I mentioned I encountered a coyote before coming across the basket.  It’s supposed to bide me time… I think.” 

“You think…but you don’t know for certain, so in the meantime you’re going to lose out on sleep lest the ‘Frog Woman’ and a ‘killer pet’ haunt your dreams, all while solving this case.” Scully glanced at Mulder again.  He looked down at his now-empty coffee cup. 

“You’ve seen me do this on a couple of occasions, Scully,” he said in a low voice feeling slightly resigned. She took a couple steps towards him and rested her left hand on his right shoulder. She waited for him to lift his eyes to meet hers before she responded. 

“Yes, but you were the hunter in those cases, Mulder. Not the hunted.”  Scully could see Mulder’s eyes light up with an idea in mind. His mood suddenly changed as he got up from the bed to quickly gather both their trench coats, keys, and the basket. 

“Come on, Scully! Daylight’s burning!” Mulder exclaimed as he guided her by the elbow to the door. 

“Where are we going?” she asked slightly confused by his reaction, but allowed him to usher her outside. 

“ _You_  are going to gather, while  _I_  am going to hunt.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news! I wrote the ending! Now it's a just matter of writing the chapters in-between... Thanks to all who are reading this story.


	16. Chapter 16

By gathering, Mulder meant for Scully to track down the other Pomo Indian mythology book that Professor Wiley reserved at the junior college.  He drove the rental through the campus roundabout, and the two of them watched students being dropped off by either their parent or sibling.

"Sorry, I didn't pack you lunch today," Mulder quipped as the car traveled another few inches when he deemed it safe to unlock the car and let her out.  She rolled her eyes at him.

"What exactly are you hunting today?” She asked glancing at him, her right hand on the car door handle.

"Not sure exactly," he answered, "Perhaps hunting isn't the right word. I want to try to figure out where this basket is heading.  How further north the Russian River does it have to travel... There was a rock formation in my dream last night that I've never seen before.  I want to find out more about that with the Pomo Indian couple.  I'm sure if I prod them enough that they will be more forthcoming of what it is they kept from me yesterday.  The local weather channel forecasted no rain the next couple days, so the traffic won't be so bad."

Scully didn't request to tag along with him after hearing his plan.  She got out of the car and headed to the library, already familiar which path to take on campus.  She breathed in the morning air taking in the faint scent of fresh redwoods from last night's rain even though the campus was littered with these trees.  Scully slightly frowned as she absentmindedly brought her right hand to her nostrils.   She entered the library and greeted the librarian at the reception desk. 

“Hello again,” Scully greeted politely, “I wanted to know if you remembered Professor Wiley reserving a book, Pomo Indian Myths, and where his office may be located.” The librarian had a confused expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we don’t have a ‘Professor Wiley’ that teaches at our campus,” the librarian replied, “and no one came to me checking out Pomo Indian Myths. In fact, I have a bin of books I still have to sort through if you would like to see if the book is among the pile.”

Scully cursed mentally, annoyed at how she could easily be duped as she thanked the librarian who then directed her to the bin that was placed nearby a study table not far from the front desk. There wasn’t a huge pile that she had to rummage through as Scully cursed inwardly again for her short stature straining to reach the bottom of the bin to pull out the books.  She found the book in question at the bottom of the pile and quickly took a seat.  The false professor and his exposed lie of reserving the book piqued her interest.  Is there a connection with him to this case?  Was he the killer? Was he trailing them? Scully skimmed through the table of contents and started searching for the characters Mulder mentioned in his dream, Frog Woman, Skylalal, and Coyote.

“Oh my God,” she muttered aloud once she found the connection. How is she supposed to reach Mulder to tell him about this new revelation?  Scully grabbed her trench coat off the study table ready to head out when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and was immediately on guard, “Who exactly are you?” 

**************************************

Mulder swung by a convenience store after dropping off Scully to replenish on sunflower seeds while on his way to the Aguilar residence.  It was an easier drive to Graton with a break in the rain as he pulled into the gravel driveway.  Robert opened the door this time as Mulder walked up the pathway and shouted, "Gen, the FBI man's back!"

"Good morning, Mr. Aguilar," Mulder politely greeted as Robert led him into the living room and gestured him to take a seat on the couch again.  Genevieve came out from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand drying her hands off.

"Agent Mulder," she greeted cheerfully as she haphazardly tossed the dish towel on her sofa console, "What brings you back to us?"

Mulder scratched his left temple with his index finger not sure how to proceed with the topic he wanted to discuss.  The couple before him had been reticent the other day despite the fact that they went out of their way to create a protective charm for him.  He needed to know what exactly the "whole heap of trouble" Genevieve was referring to.  "Mrs. Aguilar," he started as he lifted up his right wrist and pulled down his shirt cuff to reveal the bracelet, "I had a dream last night regarding a Russian River creature that my partner pointed out to be 'Frog Woman' from the Pomo Indian mythologies.  Afterwards one of the strands broke and fell off this charm."  He studied the couple sitting before him, seeing their demeanor change from being friendly to guarded and grim.  He continued, "Could you tell me what exactly I got myself into when I retrieved this basket?"

The couple shared a look with each other again before Genevieve answered his question, "Agent Mulder, we've already overstepped our place on this matter.  The only thing we can tell you is that the charm is supposed to bide you time as you return the basket to its rightful location."

"Bide me time, or more like counting down to my demise?" Mulder asked for clarification, "I sure as hell didn't have a warm and fuzzy feeling dream."

"It could've been much worse, FBI man," Robert replied, "It could've all been real instead."

"Alright, alright," Mulder conceded, "Could you at least interpret something from my dream? There was a rock formation that the Russian River curved around. Could you tell me where I could find this rock?"

"It's Squaw Rock," Genevieve answered immediately, "Our stories tell us that's where Frog Woman resides.  It's located an hour north of here just south of Hopland along HWY-101." 

Mulder thanked the two of them.  He knew the basket's destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having a case of writer's block writing the chapters in-between to lead up to the last chapter. Hopefully the next chapter will come to me. In the meantime, here is a link to a TXF fan fiction that got me back into reading TXF fan fiction not found on the archived Gossamer page: https://manicmea.com/the-best-lies#.WbTaudOGOt8
> 
> Comments/feedback are appreciated and welcomed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if I should blame writer's block or my resistance against how the story is dictating itself at the moment. A couple of draft versions of this chapter were written, but it all leads to a path I wasn't ready for yet. Sorry for the short chapter.

Shit. He's going to blame it on sleep deprivation. That was the only thing Mulder could think of as he stood by the metal railing, staring at the massive rock formation and hearing the river rapidly running past. Mulder stared at the basket in his hands. It felt cold and damp like how the day was going after he left the Aguilar residence. He thought that once he knew the location that he could just return the basket there, but it turned out to be more involved than that. He couldn’t just throw it into the river to have it travel downstream again; there weren’t any obvious trails to be seen from the highway; and unless he was suddenly an avid rock climber, there was no way he could reach the top of Squaw Rock. Two hours of his day wasted on this excursion. Feeling irked, Mulder checked his watch. It was going to be early afternoon by the time he reached the motel. The only thing going for him was the knowledge that Squaw Rock was Frog Woman's residence. He still had no idea how the basket was connected to all this. A CHP car pulled behind Mulder's rental.

  
"Sir, it's illegal to park here," the CHP officer stated once he approached Mulder a few paces away from the rental. Mulder whipped out his badge.

  
"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI here to investigate some deaths that occurred along the Russian River in Sonoma County. I have reason to believe that Squaw Rock is related to the case. Do you happen to know of any trails that would lead up to this rock formation?" Mulder let the CHP officer examine his badge for a beat before placing it back in his breast pocket.

  
"None that is accessible due to the recent rainfall," the CHP officer answered his face grim, "I heard about the deaths. I hope that it's not heading up this way."

  
"We're on the same page, then," Mulder agreed as he headed back to the rental, "Thanks. I'll be sure to park someplace else next time."

  
"There's a small lot several yards north that allows visitors a chance to park and take pictures of Squaw Rock," the CHP officer offered as he matched Mulder's stride heading back to his vehicle. Mulder simply nodded and began his way back to Santa Rosa.

*********

  
Scully glared at the man before her as he placed his hands up, palms facing forward as a non-confrontational gesture. He sheepishly smiled at her. “Whoa, easy now, Agent Scully,” Wiley said.

  
“You didn’t answer my question,” she replied, “Who exactly are you? The school has no record of a Professor Wiley, and you obviously obstructed my investigation—”

  
“Your investigation on Pomo Indian mythology?” He finished slightly amused, “I assure you I meant no harm. The answers you sought could be found in the other books you gathered. And I am who I say I am.”

  
“I don’t believe you,” Scully said, “I found pertinent information in this book, and I need to seek my partner on the matter. Now if you’ll excuse me…” with that, she quickly passed by Wiley to exit the library slipping on her trench coat on her way out.

  
“Agent Scully, wait!” Wiley caught up with her at the library steps taking a couple steps before her to be eye-level, “You’re right about me hindering your research. The information you think you found won’t do you much good if you don’t know how to resolve the situation for your partner.”

  
Scully looked at him in astonishment. “What do you know of my partner?”

  
“I know that he is in way over his head with this case due to an artifact he has in possession,” Wiley answered in a serious tone, his amber-colored eyes piercing, “Your partner is a hard man to pin down, Agent Scully.”

  
“Which is why you approached me,” Scully deduced as she subconsciously took a step back from the wiry man, “how do you know of this?”

  
“I’ve been trying to track down the basket for ages. It suddenly surfaced, attracting too much attention from law enforcement,” Wiley started to explain but then stopped himself when he realized their surroundings wasn’t the best place to have this conversation, “Meet me at Adel’s diner later this evening with your partner. I can help you two with this case.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Finally! An update!

“The Wiley guy told you to meet him here?” Mulder asked as they pulled into the parking lot at Adel’s Restaurant. It was a mauve-colored building at the corner of Mendocino and College Ave. The place didn’t look presumptuous as the two of them observed the patrons entering the place in casual clothing before exiting the rental. 

“He must be inside,” Scully said as she walked towards the entrance with Mulder following closely behind her, a hand on her lower back. Mulder held the door open for Scully to walk into the foyer where she was greeted by a young hostess. 

“Welcome to Adel’s! How many people tonight?” the young hostess asked perkily as she reached for menus at the podium. 

“We’re meeting someone,” Mulder answered instead, as he watched Scully scan the large room full of patrons. She looked up at him and gestured with her head to follow her. The young hostess gave Mulder a polite smile as the two of them headed towards a booth at the far corner of the restaurant. Once they got closer to the booth, Mulder could make out Wiley’s features. A wiry-looking man, approximately around 50 years of age, tanned-skin with graying light-brown hair and a set of amber eyes waiting for them. Mulder would have to admit, the man was…above-average looking…as he glanced down at Scully’s profile. She gave away nothing as she scooted into the booth seat first, opposite of Wiley. Mulder sat down next to her and sat back studying the above-average-looking man. His profiler mind already at play; he immediately distrusted Wiley, after what Scully told him once he returned to the motel from his botched basket return. Wiley greeted the two of them with a nod. 

“Agent Scully, thanks for coming with your partner…Agent…” Wiley started. 

“Mulder,” Mulder supplied, “Special Agent Fox Mulder.” Wiley smirked once he heard the full name. 

“I guess all three of us will address each other by last names,” Wiley said amused. 

“Though we can’t confirm the authenticity of your last name,” Scully responded coolly. 

“I am who I say I am,” Wiley repeated himself for Scully to hear again. Mulder observed the exchange between the two of them; a moment shared that he wasn’t privy to. He set his jaw and cleared his throat while consciously brushing against Scully’s right arm with his left trying to get Wiley’s full attention. 

“You told Scully you wanted to meet me?” Mulder asked warily as Wiley’s amber eyes finally focused on him, “You told her you could help us with our investigation.” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Wiley confirmed, “I told her the information she gathered won’t do you much good.” 

Mulder glanced down at his partner who had her arms crossed and her chin tucked in. “What information did you gather, Scully? What are you withholding?” 

“I’m not withholding anything, Mulder,” she replied looking up at him in earnest. The same earnest expression he remembered on their very first case together when she swore she wasn’t part of any agenda, “What I found from the Pomo Indian Myths book is that Frog Woman, Coyote, and Skylalal are all related.” 

“Related how?” 

“Skylalal is Frog Woman and Coyote’s offspring,” she answered glancing over at Wiley, “But I suppose, Wiley has a point. This information is moot if we don’t know how to proceed with it.” 

“And this is where you come in?” Mulder asked as he looked over at Wiley who nodded, “How?” 

“Do you have the artifact on you?” Wiley asked in response. 

“Answering my question by posing another question, huh?” Mulder could play this game, “How does the basket fit in all this?” 

“Is it on you?” Wiley asked again in a more demanding tone. 

“How about you answer my question first?” Mulder suggested as he leaned back in the booth beside an exasperated-looking Scully perching his upper arms on top of the booth rest. He glanced down and shrugged at her. He wasn’t in any hurry trying to fish out information from a suspicious man who requested to see him. Wiley had a wild look to his eyes as he glowered at Mulder for a briefest of moments before he composed himself. He smiled at Mulder; though his smile looked more like a snarl. Both Mulder and Scully could tell he was riled up by Mulder's actions. Just then, a young college-aged waitress arrived at their table unaware of the tension and asked if they chose anything from the menu. Wiley's demeanor changed instantly. 

"I'll have myself your New York Steak Sandwich, please," he answered pleasantly, "and a refill on my coke." 

"Of course," the waitress replied and then looked over at the smartly-dressed couple who did not make a move to open their menus, "And how about for you two?" 

"An order of your cheeseburger and fries, an order of chef salad with balsamic vinaigrette dressing on the side, one iced tea and one coffee with cream no sugar," Mulder answered automatically. The both of them have visited enough All-American dining establishments across the country the past four years to know that there would always be a cheeseburger combo and a chef salad on the menu. It was their respective go-to meals when they were too tired to think of what to eat on the menu, or in this case conversing with a person of interest for their investigation. 

"Could we have the food to-go, please?" Scully added, "We're not planning to stay for very long." 

"Alrighty. I'll bring you two your drinks right away and that refill," the waitress answered as she quickly jotted down their order and gathered the menus. The three waited until the waitress left before Wiley spoke. 

"I know the basket’s destination,” he offered. Mulder gave Wiley mock-surprised gasp. 

"So do I," Mulder responded, "But it didn't do me much good when I went there earlier today." 

"And this is where I can help: I know how to access the cave." That statement caught Mulder and Scully's attention as the two shared a look, and he pulled out the basket from his trench coat pocket for Wiley to see. Mulder placed it on the table expecting Wiley to hold and examine it, but he remained still, looking pained as he stared at the basket. The waitress swung by to drop off their drinks. 

"You don't want to check its authenticity?" Scully asked. Wiley shook his head ducking it down as he took a sip of his soda out of a straw. 

"No need. It's the artifact I've been searching for..." He grumbled as he stirred up the ice in his soda with his straw, "Now it just needs to get into the heart of Squaw Rock unscathed." 

"Alright," Mulder said as he glimpsed at Scully, "when do we leave?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sensing the end is near, but have yet to decide on the number of chapters.

“I don’t trust him, Scully,” Mulder said as he pulled into a parking spot in front of their motel rooms, “but he claims to know how to access a cave in Squaw Rock. There were no caves as far as I could tell when I went there during the day.

  
“Wiley mentioned going to the rock due to the full moon tomorrow,” Scully reminded him as she got out of the rental with their food, “but the moon’s gravitational pull affects the tides of large bodies of water, not a river.”

  
“Either way, we’ll have time tomorrow to grab the proper attire for Squaw Rock. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t pack myself hiking boots nor mountaineering equipment on this trip."

  
“Mountaineering? That’s not part of my job description,” Scully replied flatly.

  
Mulder shrugged, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Scully passed him his take-out food and headed toward her motel room to decompress for the day. Mulder reminded her that he was pulling an all-nighter receiving a groan and an eye roll as he stepped into his room to unwind. She was too tired to criticize his horrible idea again.

  
Mulder bit down on a sunflower seed as he reread the second case file for the 10th time. He was pretty confident he could recite the report after the second pass. He kept his hands occupied by tossing the basket back and forth between them as he studied the autopsy report again. He officially stayed awake longer than 24 hours with the last 5 hours on a coffee-and-sunflower-seeds diet. His vision was getting blurry as he looked up from the file to glance at the TV playing the damned Stupendous Yappi commercial urging people to call to get their fortunes told. Even in his sleep-deprived state, Mulder still had his sense about him. “Still a hack,” Mulder thought aloud as he set the basket down on the nightstand, and got up from the bed heading to the bathroom to splash water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look too bad; his appearance had been worse during Scully’s abduction… Mulder heard the TV turn off, and remembered that he’d place it on a timer the night before. Besides the bedside light casting a warm glow, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw the young boy in his dreams standing by the corner near the window staring outside through the blinds.

  
“It’s here,” the boy simply stated in a calm and monotonous voice.

  
“Wha—” Mulder didn’t have a chance to finish his question when he saw a shadow of what looked like a bear walking on its hind legs pass by his window followed by his door handle shaking. He looked back to where the boy was standing, but the boy disappeared. He immediately went for his holstered gun atop the dresser as the sounds from outside his door became louder— a mixture of scratches and low growls. Whatever it was, it was going to succeed in breaking down the door as Mulder saw the door rattling from the creature pounding at it. He readied himself, adrenaline kicking in to give him that jolt of energy as he shouted aloud, “Federal Agent! Stand down! I’m armed!”

  
The sounds suddenly stopped. Mulder waited a few breaths before he lowered his weapon and crept to the door. Just when he was about to let out another breath to calm his nerves, his motel window shattered inward sending shards of glass his way. The bear-like creature immediately jumped through the broken window tumbling across the small table and chairs and made its way to Mulder who started shooting, but seemed ineffective, as it pounced on him. Mulder could make out a shiny, black blade raised high above the creature as he raised his gun again and shot at it point blank in the chest with no effects. The creature growled, and was about to stab him, but Mulder heard a familiar male voice shouting something he couldn't understand. The creature was taken by surprise from behind by a coyote slamming Mulder's head down hard, knocking him out cold. Mulder regained consciousness on the floor after hearing a series of rapid knocking at his door. He winced when he touched the back of his head, feeling tender and bruised from whatever he experienced the wee hours of the morning. He looked around. There was no broken window, no shards of glass as he scanned his room; it looked intact. The knocking continued followed by, “Mulder? It’s me.” He gingerly got up from the floor and shuffled to the door. He opened it and immediately saw Scully's concerned expression.

  
"Jesus, Mulder! What the hell happened to you?" She asked as she entered. She was in doctor mode now as she led him to the foot of his bed to sit and gave him a cursory examination. There were small nicks and scratches on his forearms and a bruise could be seen under his tee-shirt collar. Scully palpated his head starting near his temples and heard him wince once she reached his occipital area. There was a huge lump that formed at the back of his head. She told him to follow her index finger with his eyes.

  
"I don't know how to explain it, Scully," Mulder answered her question as his eyes peered up to look at her, "I went to wash my face, then I spotted the boy in my dreams by the window, and a bear-like creature tried to break into my room, but instead it broke through the window and pounced on me and was about to stab me. I fired several rounds from my gun but it had no effect...then I came to..."

  
She looked at him with concern. "Mulder, I didn't hear anything from your room. You had to have dreamt this...but the broken window in your dreams would explain the nicks on your forearm along with the bruising caused by the 'assailant'."

  
"Looks like I'm following the Nightmare On Elm Street plot just fine," he quipped as he pushed himself off the bed and headed to the door. He wanted to check for any evidence that there was an intruder. He didn't just dream this. Unfortunately, the door didn't have any scratches on its surface. He took a couple strides passing Scully to check his gun still in its holster. All the rounds were there. Mulder pursed his lips in frustration, hands on his hips as he looked back again at the corner of the room where he saw the boy was standing. The basket was in that corner. He swore he had placed it on the nightstand next to the lamp. _How the hell did it get there?_ he thought to himself.

  
"Mulder," Scully's voice cut through his thoughts as he turned around to see her holding up a piece of twine. He looked down at his wrist and saw that only one strand remained.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is purely a filler chapter with no plot progression. It’s a healing chapter of sorts as I pay homage to an historic landmark that burned in the Tubbs Fire in Santa Rosa. Personally, life is off-kilter, but this site with the awesome stories that have been published since October 9, 2017 has been my mental place of refuge. It will be a long road to recovery for the city, but us residents are resilient. #sonomacountystrong #coffeystrong
> 
> This chapter also used tumblr txt-prompt-box quotes: “It’s so big!” and “Do you have a nose bleed?” or a variation of quote.

“It’s so big!” Scully said in astonishment as she admired the sight before her. She could see Mulder’s wry, lopsided grin out of the corner of her eyes as he glanced down at her. She rolled her eyes away.

  
“You forgot to mention round,” he replied as he spat out some sunflower shells onto the damp ground. The two continued to stare at this red, round barn sitting atop a gentle slope. On its south-facing side there was a signage that read: “Fountaingrove Round Barn”.

  
“Mulder, why are we even here?” Scully asked as she glanced up at him, “This barn has nothing to do with our investigation.”

  
“I beg to differ, Scully. It serves its purpose by distracting me from falling asleep while we kill time waiting for nightfall.”

  
“We’re supposed to shop for supplies before we meet up with Wiley,” Scully reminded him.

  
“Admit it, Scully. You just wanna go shopping. We have the entire day,” Mulder replied, “The waitress at The Omelette Express said this is a local, historic landmark.”

  
“Mulder, any place we go will have their own historic landmark.”

  
“Are you saying if you’ve seen one round barn, then you’ve seen them all?”

  
“I’m saying daylight’s burning and you’re barely getting by with your sleep deprivation. You have self-inflicted, unexplained surface wounds on your upper body and quite possibly a concussion that you refuse to have checked out—“

  
“You’re my doctor, you’ve checked it out and deemed it fine,” he interrupted as he grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and shoved them in his mouth out of frustration. Mulder really didn’t want to argue, really didn’t want to rehash what occurred earlier that morning after he retrieved the basket off the floor. He wasn’t used to being scrutinized under Scully’s gaze— it was usually the other way around— how she didn’t flinch when he did so was beyond him. Scully turned to walk back down the trail to their rental. Mulder took another moment to admire the barn before following Scully. She was already waiting in the car, idling it by the time he reached the bottom of the hill. Mulder’s stubbornness won out when he downright refused to go to the hospital for his head contusion on the condition that a Scully did all the driving, and if she saw any changes to his current state, then she would drive him straight to the ER.

  
He slumped into the passenger seat and looked over to Scully noticing some clumped tissue in her left hand as she looked in the rear view mirror ready to back out of the parking spot. “Did you just have a nose bleed?” he asked concerned.

  
“I’m fine, Mulder. It’s nothing,” she quickly brushed it off as she drove them to Coddingtown Mall to grab supplies. “What time did Sheriff Picconini say we could pick up one of his vehicles?”

  
“He said some time in the afternoon,” he mumbled as he gingerly rested the back of his head on the headrest. Mulder took a long blink until he heard Scully’s voice.

  
“Be careful of the bogeyman, Mulder,” she cut through his fuzzy mind as she exited the highway to the mall.

  
“Shit! I’m tired,” Mulder finally admitted as he straightened himself up in his seat. He reached towards the cup holders for his bag of sunflower seeds. Scully’s right hand stopped his motion as she gently squeezed his hand.

  
“We’ll get you another cup of coffee at the mall, okay?” she suggested before letting go to turn the steering wheel. He nodded yawning into his other hand catching a glimpse of the solo twine tied around his wrist. Mulder couldn’t wait for all this to be over.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Several times during their shopping excursion, Mulder kept looking around at his surroundings. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched, a feeling that he couldn’t shake off after the dream he experienced. He unconsciously placed his right hand in his trench coat pocket and felt the basket with his fingertips. The cup of coffee Scully ordered from a ma-and-pop coffee shop didn’t help with his tired state of mind. Mulder flinched in surprise when Scully tapped him on the shoulder from behind while he was waiting to pay the cashier.

  
"Sorry," he apologized as he shook his head slightly trying to clear his mind, "a little jumpy from what occurred earlier this morning."

  
Scully gave him a thoughtful look, "Your paranoia isn't unfounded, but honestly I've seen worse. Don't worry; I won't be afraid to shoot you again for your own safety." Mulder let out a sardonic chuckle as his response. It was hard for him to forget the scar she gave him whenever he would look at himself in the mirror, reminding him that he was one lucky bastard for having Scully as his partner. He meant what he said to her the other night about really seeing her, though he couldn't go any further than that. He couldn't form the words that he wanted to express, couldn't act upon his affections that he kept at bay. _This is enough, this is enough_...the mantra in his head whenever he was lying on his sofa and his thoughts turned to Scully.

  
It was nearing dusk by the time they picked up Wiley from the junior college in one of the sheriff's vehicles. They were dressed for the hike and equipped with a couple flashlights for the trek Mulder anticipated to reach Squaw Rock. Lowering the volume on the radio, Mulder struck up a conversation with the man sitting right behind him while Scully drove north. "What's your angle on helping us, Wiley? What do you wish to gain?"

  
Both he and Scully could hear Wiley shifting in his seat. Scully glanced up in the rearview mirror to see Wiley staring out of the window. "Neither of you have children, so you wouldn't understand. I can only say that I'm trying to right a wrong."

  
"That's a rather presumptuous remark you made, Wiley," Mulder replied turning his face towards the back seat for Wiley to better listen seeing Scully's profile in the process, “Try us.”

  
“The myths tells you bits and pieces of Coyote and the creation story. Early creation myths were conflicting. They had ones that had Coyote raising two sons, while others state he only has one son. Eventually the oral stories passed down through the generations reduced the two sons to one, forgetting the second son into obscurity except for one myth story that mentioned the second son’s true name: Skylalal,” Wiley paused a moment before he launched into storytelling, “He forever remains a child, never having the chance to be given form into manhood as his own people forgot to include him in the stories. Frog Woman adored Skylalal shielding him from harm, rarely allowing Coyote a chance to establish a bond between father and son. So Coyote thought up a plan and tricked his son into following him, leaving Squaw Rock while Frog Woman was away. For days the young boy would ask Coyote when he would return home, but Coyote never gave him a definite answer wanting to teach the boy the ways of his people in hopes that the people would take notice of their human transgression and speak Skylalal back into the myths. Frog Woman had bear shamans track for Skylalal’s whereabouts but Coyote was able to allude them by disguising his son as a fox pup. While Coyote went foraging for food, Skylalal ran into Gray Squirrel, his older brother. Overjoyed the two brothers embraced but Gray Squirrel knew that Skylalal cannot outrun Coyote due to him being a child. Gray Squirrel decided to use a binding spell on Skylalal and bound him to a basket Gray Squirrel had in his possession as a means to easier transport his brother back to Squaw Rock. Just as the spell was complete, Coyote came from out of the brushes asking what happened.

  
‘I’m taking Skylalal back to be with Mother,’ Gray Squirrel replied, ‘a child needs his mother.’

  
‘She has been coddling him,’ Coyote said, ‘I’m trying to make him become a young man. One who will be part of the myths and folklore. Hand me Skylalal.’

  
‘No,’ Gray Squirrel answered defiantly, ‘this ends, Father.’ He turned his back to Coyote which was a mistake as Coyote attacked his older son in a rage. The two scuffled with Gray Squirrel having a slight edge over Coyote in terms of strength but Coyote’s ability was a shapeshifter so he transformed into a bear and nearly crushed Gray Squirrel with a bear hug. Gray Squirrel cried out for help and two crows appeared. He tossed the basket to them and instructed them to quickly fly away as fast as their wings could carry them and hide the basket from Coyote. The crows did as they were instructed as Gray Squirrel did his best to bide them time. Coyote then transformed into a hawk to track the crows and flew off into the sky barely dodging arrows that Gray Squirrel drew. Coyote found one of the crows that acted as a decoy and killed it when it refused to speak its mate’s whereabouts. He continued hunting for the other crow and found it nearby without the basket exhausted from flying so fast.

  
‘Where is the basket?’ Coyote demanded to know.

  
‘I’ve hid it,’ the crow answered, ‘it is safe.’ The crow then mourns for its mate as Coyote went searching for the basket. For many moons it remained this way until somehow the basket appeared. By this time, the Coyote, full of remorse, hope to find Skylalal to reunite him with his mother.”

  
The two agents listened intently and patiently to this story and glanced at each other. Scully commented first, “The myth books I’ve come across stated that Skylalal and Gray Squirrel were the same being.”

  
“No, they are brothers. Gray Squirrel was the oldest, set off on his own journey, and made his place in the Pomo Indian mythology,” Wiley replied quietly.

  
“So you’re helping Coyote redeem himself as a father? When this whole mess was started by him?” Mulder asked slightly annoyed, “There have been three deaths, four if we count the crow in the myth story, all because of a domestic dispute and parenting styles of two different deities. My life is in danger because, for whatever reason, Frog Woman thinks that threats work best!”

  
“Yes, well…she is a bitter woman. Yet another cause of Coyote adding to their marital strife,” Wiley answered in a regretful tone, “Coyote is a trickster, a shapeshifter. Nowhere in the myths did the Pomo Indians say he was a benevolent being, a good husband nor a good father.”

  
“He is a capricious character where the Pomo Indian villagers learned to be on their guard when they encounter him,” Scully said to Mulder, “It’s best that you be on your guard if you run into this creature since you seem to be dealing with all the parties involved right now, Mulder.”

  
“Bear shamans are persistent,” Wiley added, “they do not stop their hunt unless they are killed. However they are only allowed to kill 4 times in their lifetime. I don’t know if the shaman you’ve encountered has reached his lifetime quota, but if he kills you and you are his fifth kill, then he himself is severely punished by the gods.”

  
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Mulder quipped as he rubbed his temples with his right hand, “this last twine on my wrist—“

  
“Was a means to make it difficult for Frog Woman to reach you, but Skylalal and her connection is strong, hence you’ve been haunted by your dreams,” Wiley interrupted, “a nice attempt by a Pomo Indian witch doctor to try to shield you from harm. We’re coming up to the entrance of the trail that leads to Squaw Rock.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

“This is it, Scully,” Mulder said once they exited the car with Wiley a few paces ahead of them, “if Wiley knows his way to the cave, then I could just place the basket in there and be done with it.  I can finally escape the ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ plot line.”

Scully turned on her flashlight as the last rays of daylight disappeared over the western horizon, “I still don’t trust him, Mulder.”

“Keep veering left on the trail if you lose sight of me!” Wiley yelled from up front quickly zipping up his black leather jacket to keep out the cold.

“Do you notice how he’s not using a flashlight to see his way?” Mulder observed as he turned on his own flashlight despite the full moon slowly ascending the night sky.  Before Scully could respond, they both heard what sounded like a battle cry coming from Mulder’s right. “What the hell?!” Mulder exclaimed as he drew his gun and aimed at the direction of the sound, “Doesn’t this bear shaman get I’m trying to do the right thing?!” 

Scully quickly followed suit aiming her flashlight and gun in the general direction before she saw movement from the corner of her eye coming from the opposite direction. “Mulder!” she shouted as she started firing her gun.  The shaman ran right past her having his sights on Mulder.  She saw Mulder kill his flashlight and run toward the trail veering right instead of left like Wiley instructed.  _Dammit_ , she silently cursed, as she quickly followed her partner hoping against hope that he evaded the bear shaman. The trail started to incline becoming rocky as Scully carefully scrambled up the trail.  She noticed that these were fresh rocks as she slightly stumbled past them.  She heard gunshots up ahead and ran as fast as she felt her hiking boots sinking slightly into the mud.  She saw Mulder wrestling with the bear shaman a few feet away, but she didn’t have a clear shot.  An idea suddenly came to her.

“Mulder! Run towards me now!” Scully ordered as she took aim at some large rocks beyond the scuffle. Mulder managed to kick the bear shaman away from him as he scrambled to his feet and made his way toward her.  She hoped her plan works as she started firing at the rocks. The rocks loosened and quickly started to tumble towards them.

“Scully!” Mulder shouted as he could hear a surprised scream right behind him as he half- tripped, half- slid down the muddy trail.  The scream was soon drowned out by the rumbling sound from the rocks as he shoved Scully onto the ground, out of the tumbling rocks' path, with him landing on top of her acting as a shield. They stayed that way for a couple breaths. “That was one hell of a plan, Scully,” Mulder murmured into her ear after he caught his breath, his nose brushed against her left temple as he scrambled to get back on his feet and help Scully up from the ground.  He couldn’t explain it, but there was an inner voice that urged him to continue on that same trail despite what Wiley instructed them to do earlier.

Adrenaline still flowed within him from the scuffle when he realized that this trail must be a short cut to get to the base of Squaw Rock. Mulder pulled out the basket from his component rain jacket.  It seemed to be pulsating in his right hand with each step he took.  By this time, the full moon shone brightly in the sky casting an eerie glow to the Russian River as it parted for Mulder when he drew near revealing an entrance to a cave.  The sound coming from the river was deafening as he heard it crashing around him once he was inside.  It was then that he realized the last bracelet strand on his wrist was gone.


	23. Chapter 23

Whoever or whatever had pursued Mulder was no longer a threat as Scully surveyed the scene before her when she failed to catch up with Mulder when he dashed off. She could make out the lifeless, fallen figure among the rocks. She could see bloodied human hands, one holding an obsidian-bladed knife. Somehow the bearskin fell off the person and was among the rubble. The sight was almost comical if it hadn’t been so life-threatening for Mulder. Wiley appeared from the trail with a wild look in his eyes.

  
“Where’s Agent Mulder?!” He asked frantically. Scully pointed towards the path, “I told you two to stay left!"

  
“We would have if the bear shaman hadn't attacked Mulder,” Scully replied annoyed. It was then the two of them realized that there was an eerie silence, no sounds of the Russian River and its strong current running along its path. Then a thunderous crash sounded and Scully swore she felt a faint mist on her face.

  
"She let him into the main entrance of the cave," Wiley announced slightly surprised at this revelation. He quickly recovered and told Scully to back track to the other trail that would lead her to a different entrance of the cave.

  
"How long is that going to take?! I can’t take that chance knowing Mulder is in that cave possibly full of water!” Scully responded.

  
“Fine! Then follow me! Don’t lose sight of me this time!” Wiley angrily shouted as he started to run on the trail Mulder took. He was far more nimble than Scully expected as she half-slipped in the mud doing her best to keep up with his pace. The flash light flickered and bobbed in her hand slightly helping with her sight despite the full moon overhead. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her as she saw a mangy-looking dog for an instant only to realize it was Wiley some paces ahead of her. He abruptly stopped in his tracks as Scully stumbled a bit from behind. “Over there,” he stated as he pointed directly at the rock, the Russian River in the forefront, “He walked straight through to the mouth of the cave.”

  
“That’s impossible!” Scully exclaimed, “the gravitational pool from a full moon isn’t strong enough to affect a river.”

  
“It’s not about the full moon, Agent Scully. I suggested we go to Squaw Rock at night because it’s when Frog Woman is asleep, but I guess I’m mistaken…” Wiley trailed off as he turned to look at Scully with a determined expression on his face, "I'll create a diversion. I need you to listen very carefully to me: when the water recede you will see the entrance to the cave, quickly enter and find Agent Mulder."

  
"But the river--"

  
"The heart of the cave will be relatively dry; it's on higher ground," Wiley tried to reassure Scully, but she remained wary, "I'm going now. Remember what I just told you." With that, Wiley took off in the opposite direction, seemingly heading back down the trail. Scully huffed at the sight as she turned back around to focus on the river. It was less than a minute later when she saw the river recede resembling a small brook as she quickly ran into the cave hoping that she had enough time to make it to higher ground before the river crashed upon her.

  
_Hang on, Mulder_ , she thought to herself as she bolted towards the cave entrance. She was expecting the water to crash around her, but to her surprise the river held steady as she scrambled to higher elevation bracing herself against the damp cave walls. She found Mulder, his body crumpled on the floor next to a small pool of water.

  
“Mulder!” Scully’s cry drowned out by the crashing waves of the water as she dashed to him.

  
Mulder’s entire being felt warm and buoyant, as if he were suspended in air; a sense of calmness washing over him. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He could see the little boy Skylalal run to his mother, Frog Woman, and the two embraced in a loving and fierce hug. With tears of joy, the Frog Woman kissed her son soundly on the forehead. At that moment, visions flooded Mulder’s stream of consciousness—generations of mothers embracing their young from what looked like the start of mankind through the present of every possible culture—as if it were encapsulating the term Motherhood. Mulder watched a scene flash before him in awe as he recognized his own mother embracing Samantha well before she was taken and still more visions flooded his mind. _Was it showing him the future?_ He was about to try to shut his mind off, until he caught a glimpse of a familiar redhead cradling a little one with a gentle smile on her face. She then looked up and stared at him directly stating “Mulder”, an echo of his name on her lips.

  
“MULDER!” Scully’s echoey voice grew louder in his mind and the visions just as quickly as they had appeared, faded away. Skylalal and Frog Woman no longer in front of him as he drifted into the darkness. Mulder came to coughing spastically as his lungs did their best to rid of fluids. He opened his eyes and saw Scully kneeled beside him with a relieved smile on her face.

  
“Mulder!” she exclaimed breathlessly as she helped him sit up. One of his arms draped across her shoulder as she steadied him with a hand on his upper back and the other on his chest, “Mulder, what happened?”

  
He looked at her slightly dazed, slightly in awe and answered between his coughing fits, "I witnessed a reunion, Scully. I saw the little boy reunite with Frog Woman who actually looked human!”

  
Scully didn’t know what to say as she continued to pat his back to facilitate his coughs. They needed to head back to the car. They needed to keep Mulder’s core temperature warm. _Wiley_ , she suddenly remembered, _we need to find him first._ The two heard footsteps from somewhere up above them, and Scully quickly picked up her flashlight and saw what she assumed was Wiley’s shadow casted against the cave walls. _This is the entrance he must have wanted us to take earlier_ , she thought to herself. Her flashlight started to dim and flicker, most likely from wet batteries, and she started to shake it as if shaking it would make the batteries last longer. Instead what entered the cave was a coyote. Its fur was the mixture of light brown and gray; its amber eyes studying the two of them. The coyote let out a howl then performed a downward dog pose as if bowing to them before scampering away.

  
“Did you see that Scully?” Mulder asked incredulously. The shadow changed from a man to a coyote. That had to be _the_ Coyote.”

  
“That’s not possible,” Scully tried to rationalize, “our minds are playing tricks on us.” Mulder used Scully as leverage to stand up and walk to where the coyote stood. There were articles of clothing on the ground. He picked up a black leather jacket crumpled atop a couple articles of clothing.

  
“Wasn’t this what Wiley was wearing?” he asked as he placed the jacket around himself. Scully could only gape at him.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have been following this story. I wrote this last chapter a couple months ago, and feel relatively satisfied with how it ended leading into Momento Mori. I never thought my first fan fiction was going to be multi-chapter, let alone over 20,000 words. I anticipate 2018 to be a very busy year in my personal life, so writing will take a backseat until things are more settled.

Scully noticed a sullen Mulder seated at his desk once she arrived at the office. She arched an eyebrow at him as she took off her coat and placed it on the coat rack, then strode to her side of the office to put down her laptop bag.

  
"Care to share what's wrong, Mulder?" She asked once she booted up her laptop.

  
He replayed what he could remember at the scene: entering the cave, making it to higher ground before he saw the vision of Skylalal and Frog Woman, radioing in for reinforcements and a coroner to retrieve the body. There was something else he saw but couldn’t remember… “Nothing is wrong," he finally mumbled as he tapped a sharpened pencil on his desk while staring at his computer screen, "That's the problem. Your report is immaculate with substantial evidence indicating that the bear shaman is the perpetrator. A 'David Moran' who belongs to the local Pomo tribe, age 46, until his acts of murder, was a model citizen who didn't wish to live on tribal lands, gained an associates degree at the Santa Rosa Junior College in Accounting, and worked for a local accounting firm for years. How about that? A murderous accountant?" He leaned back in his chair and launched the pencil up into the ceiling. "I can't add anything to this report. Whatever memories I do recall has already become distorted or forgotten. It's unreliable."

  
"Well, Mulder, that dream of yours where you had all the cuts and bruises correlate with how David Moran attacked his victims," Scully offered as she looked over her shoulder catching him in the act of grabbing another sharpened pencil from his desk drawer, "Though your theory of a water nymph was at first outlandish, the fact remains that the X-Files division solved a case."

  
"I don’t think Skinner would appreciate me telling him a basket I found was possessed by a Pomo Indian deity caught in a mythic parental custody battle, or that we actually spoke to a Pomo Indian shape-shifting god. At least I have Wiley's leather jacket as a momento," Mulder continued to sulk, "I mean hell, Scully, I don't even recall our lip-locking session!" He threw his hands up behind his head with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He earned himself Scully’s patented arched eyebrow.

  
"You mean mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," she clarified in a deadpan tone, "when I found you unconscious near a small puddle in the cave."

  
"Potato, po-tah-toe, Scully," he looked back at his computer screen and started to add his two cents to the report Scully drafted during the flight back to Washington D.C., "Thanks, I owe you…” Mulder sincerely meant it as he quickly recounted how many times Scully saved his sorry ass life since she walked into the basement office. He was thankful that she wasn’t keeping tabs, or perhaps she was, but didn’t throw it in his face.

  
"It's what partners do, Mulder," she simply replied interrupting his thoughts as she turned back to her laptop. The two of them caught up with paperwork that compiled while they were gone for the remainder of the day. Scully checked her emails one last time before giving Mulder the news of her not being at work tomorrow. She told him a small fib: that it was her annual check-up but she wanted to take the rest of the day off to catch up with house chores and errands. She didn’t need to alarm him without concrete results.

  
"Will you tell your doctor about your recurring nose bleeds, please?" Mulder requested, "It got more frequent over the course of our last case, Scully."

  
"I know and I will," she assured him with a tight-lipped smile. She tidied her area and got ready to leave for the day. To say that she was apprehensive about tomorrow was an understatement as she reached for her coat, but Mulder beat her to it as he helped to put her coat on.

  
"Scully, what's wrong?" his turn to ask. Scully silently cursed his hyper observational skills as he gently swept his left hand at the nape of her neck to remove her hair from underneath the coat collar murmuring that her hair grew longer in the process.

  
“It’s nothing,” she answered as she turned around to face him while adjusting her coat under Mulder’s gaze, “I guess I’m just preoccupied about what I have to do tomorrow. I’m not sure if I have enough time to finish my errands…”

  
“Is that all?” he responded with a dubious expression, “if you don’t complete your errands, then just take off early the day after, Scully. The office is slow.”

  
“Are you heading out now?”

  
“Nah, I want to add in my side to the report before we submit it to Skinner.” He took stock of her for a brief second and wished her a good evening before retreating back to the desk. Things were getting better between them now. They were going to be okay. Mulder realized how wrong he was the next day when he received a phone call hearing Scully’s slightly breathless, slightly trembling voice on the other end. _She’s fighting back tears_ , he’d recognized, as he straightened himself in the desk chair, a neat row of sharpened pencils forgotten, as he listened carefully to her words.

  
“I need to show you something,” Scully said as calmly as she could while she continued to stare at the X-ray image of the intruder residing in her nasal cavity, “Meet me at the Holy Cross Memorial,” she paused for a beat not quite believing what she said next, “Ask for me in Oncology.”

  
She hung up her cell phone then, knowing Mulder was on his way. She realized with a sense of finality that they wouldn’t be able to reach out to each other much longer. Their phone calls, discussions, and banters were numbered. _God, help me_ , Scully silently pleaded, _provide me the strength to walk this journey alone._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback! Please leave comments and/or constructive criticism!


End file.
